


But that all changed when the Akaashi nation attacked.

by timkons



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bokuto went to Nekoma, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bromance, Crack Treated Seriously, Epic Friendship, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, M/M, Memes, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Texts From Last Night
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2018-11-09 12:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 50,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11104893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timkons/pseuds/timkons
Summary: (970): my roommate had drunk sex above me in our bunk bed and then built me a fort to apologize the next dayAKA: A week in the life of Kuroo, who is 100% done with his best bro's day-old, marriage-track relationship, since he may or may not have been pining for Kenma since forever.





	1. Day zero

**Author's Note:**

> used [this coding tutorial](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722) for all the texting!

Kuroo hates his life. As in: he _seriously_ hates his life. Now before you start getting any ideas, it didn’t used to be this way. In fact, ten minutes ago, Kuroo loved his life. Ten minutes ago, Kuroo was celebrating the first week of living on his own in a brand-new apartment with his best friend in the entire world (as long as Kenma wasn’t listening, in which case, his second-best friend in the entire world). Yes, Kuroo had it all: no bedtimes, all you can eat chocolate cookies for breakfast, and a roommate who didn’t care if he left his week-old dirty socks on the couch.

But that all changed when the Akaashi nation attacked.

If you were to go back in time and tell the Kuroo of last week that he’d be staring at the ceiling (because no, he is _not_ going to think of what is directly in front of his eyeballs,) and praying to every god in existence to take pity on his poor, sinning soul, he would have laughed and said, “how could things go that horribly wrong in one week?”

Yet here Kuroo is, dreading Bokuto’s brilliant decision to get bunk beds, clutching his phone for dear life, and texting the one and only person he knows would never betray him like this.

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 11:15 PM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** save me,  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** What happened?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** bokuto and his boyfriend are fucking  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Whats so bad about that?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** they’re doing it in bed  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** ????  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** i’m also in bed  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** o  
  


-

“This is _literally_ the best thing to ever happen to me,” Bokuto says, a few minutes after signing his name on the dotted line that said he’d be signing his soul to Kuroo for the next nine months. At the time, Kuroo felt the same way, a matching smile as dazzling as Bokuto’s on his own face. Now that they were second years in university, they wouldn’t have to put up with dorm showers that smelled worse than a gym locker room or sticking to a no booze policy. No, Kuroo and Bokuto had put in their dues and now it was time to revel in freedom.

“Better than winning nationals?” Kuroo reminds, and he laughs when Bokuto gasps, eyes wide and jaw dropped. They’d been the best of friends since meeting in their first year at Nekoma, and even though the team took pride in their catlike likeness, Kuroo always thought Bokuto was more of a bird. Or a rabbit. Or a dog, really. Just nothing catlike at all.

“Okay, maybe not better than _that_ but really close!” Always quick to recover, Bokuto simply knocks his shoulder into Kuroo’s and pumps his fists in the air. “Dude, we’re gonna have the coolest man cave ever.”

Since Kuroo had not yet suffered the awful memory that would forever haunt his life, he raised his hand to highfive Bokuto without a thought when his new roommate lifted his arm. “Party central, my friend.”

Bokuto’s eyes sharpen like a cat’s and by the way his smirk revealed all of his pearly whites, Kuroo knew Bokuto had a life-changing plan. “Speaking of party…”

“Bro.”

“ _Bro._ ”

They fistbump.

-

Though they hadn’t discussed it earlier, there was no way Kuroo was going to refuse the opportunity to party in their brand-new apartment. Kuroo and Bokuto had moved all their furniture in already, which wasn’t all that hard considering they had everything necessary for the _best_ housewarming party ever: a karaoke machine-cum-jukebox, a ping pong table that could double as both a coffee table and a beer pong table, and a cooler filled with cheap beer and vodka strong enough to clear any sinuses in the dead of spring. Oh yeah, they were ready, and thanks to Bokuto’s amazing planning and foresight, they even texted everybody they invited to bring beer, a friend, and drunk munchies.

Kuroo’s unpacking the bathroom stuff, which consists of two measly rolls of toilet paper, one toothbrush, a bar of soap, and a shower curtain without the rings to hang it on, when he gets the text that forever changed the course of his life.

Kitty Kat   
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** my new place, 7pm sharp for housewarming party!!!!! byob byof + byodm   
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** byof = bring your own friend  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** byodm = bring your own drunk munchies  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** get with the times kenma!!!!  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** p.s. u can’t count me as ur byof bc bokuto’s counting me already  
  
**Today** 12:12 PM  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Bringing pizza rolls. Do i really have to bring a +1?  
  


“Hey, bro!” he yells, and immediately Bokuto’s hair peeks at the doorway. “Does Kenma really have to bring a plus one?”

“Um, _duh_. It said so on the mass text!” Bokuto whines, waving his phone as if that proves anything.

Kuroo should have suspected it then, but there was no telling that he had made his fatal mistake at that very moment. Moral of the story? _Never_ trust Bokuto.

Kitty Kat   
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Bringing pizza rolls. Do i really have to bring a +1?  
  
**Today** 12:13 PM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** bokuto says yes  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Fine  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** :3c   
  


Kuroo stares at the single refill of toilet paper beneath his and Bokuto’s brand new sink. He tilts his head. He picks up his phone again.

Kitty Kat   
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** on a scale from 1-10 how much of a disaster would it be if we ran out of toilet paper during this party?  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** 100  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** ok then bring toilet paper too  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** -_-  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** :(  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** -_-  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** :(((  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** -_-  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** :’((((((((((((  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** :*   
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** :)   
  


-

Four hours later, Kuroo has to admit he’s feeling pretty good. Maybe it’s the way Kenma is adorably scowling while pressed up against his wall, or maybe it’s the vodka. It’s probably the vodka, but in any case, he flings himself next to Kenma, laughing with the breath knocked out of him and already slumping against his childhood friend and maybe crush. The vodka tells him he _definitely_ has a crush on Kenma, but his delicate, safeguarded, insecure _feelings_ assure him he does not. “’Sup Kenma? When’d you get here?”

“A few minutes ago,” Kenma says blandly, pressing buttons on his phone. He’s playing a light novel game and not paying any attention to the party, but Kuroo can tell he’s enjoying himself by the way he holds a red solo cup (which Bokuto had to run to the convenience store to buy after the third person showed up) filled with gin and tonic. “I already put your toilet paper in the restroom, by the way. Keiji said it would be wise to buy in bulk, so there are extras.”

“Kenma? I love you,” Kuroo drawls, nuzzling his chin against the top of Kenma’s head, right where his roots are beginning to get too long again. Had Kuroo been sober, he might have caught on sooner, but he purses his lips, which had gone numb along with his nose two drinks ago, before realizing he doesn’t know who the hell Keiji is. “Keiji?”

Kenma pauses his game (and that’s how Kuroo knows Kenma _truly_ loves him), and points to a boy who seems as excited to be at the party as Kenma. He’s sitting stiffly on the couch nursing a red solo cup on his lap, both hands pressed to it as if he was holding a warm mug of tea. “My plus one. He played for Fukuroudani last year. He brought rum too.”

“I like him already,” Kuroo slurs.

“He’s not drinking any though,” Kenma says lightly, resuming his game.

Kuroo blinks exactly as Kenma’s protagonist begins wooing a tall, dark-haired upperclassman with a catlike smirk. “What!?”

“He brought it as a gift and thinks it’s rude to drink it,” Kenma explains.

If Kuroo hadn't been so invested in getting everybody at this party 110% smashed, he might have focused more on the way Kenma’s cheeks were getting rosy and how his shoulders eased closer into Kuroo’s chest. Future Kuroo wishes he had.

“ _Bokuto!_ That guy doesn’t have a drink!” Kuroo yells, now pointing to the startled boy on the couch. To his credit, Kenma is so used to it that he doen’t even flinch, and seconds later, Bokuto pushes through the sea of guests packed like sardines into their too-tiny one-bedroom apartment, nearly barreling into the guy.

“Whoa!” Bokuto squeals – literally, _squeals_ – as he shoves his big mouth and biceps into the unsuspecting victim’s personal space. Kuroo starts to snicker, realizing the new guy is uncomfortable, but Bokuto obliviously presses on. “You’re, like, the prettiest guy on the face of this earth! What can I get you to drink?”

“That’s an exaggeration,” the boy says, his smile escaping Kuroo’s careful gaze. “I’ll have whatever you’re having. I’m Akaashi, by the way.”

-

Some hours later, Kuroo finds two people passed out on the floor, one guy curled up and sucking his thumb in the kitchen, and a girl he doesn’t even know hanging halfway in the bathtub and the other half on the toilet. Not in the mood to deal with people and craving some cuddle time with his pillow and maybe Kenma, Kuroo (mostly Kenma) start to usher people out. Their apartment has a silence code, which had been pleasantly reminded to both Kuroo and Bokuto by their disgruntled neighbors, and next week is the beginning of the term anyway, so nobody had come in the hopes of a party popping until five in the morning. A few people Kuroo doesn’t know are still hanging around, and Kenma remains by his side in the kitchen as Kuroo begins heating up some pizza rolls. He’s careful to step over the passed-out guy on his kitchen floor, though he’s obviously more concerned about his pizza rolls than the rando’s livelihood.

“You could stay over tonight,” Kuroo offers. By now it’s so quiet that the only sounds are snores, the beep of the microwave, and two hushed voices, followed by giggles. Kuroo quirks an eyebrow in the direction of the couch.

Kuroo notes that the lighting is really bad in the kitchen, because he can’t quite read Kenma’s expression. Kenma never blushed, but for some reason Kuroo remembers Kenma blushing. That can’t be right, so he blames it on the lights. “I have to see what Keiji wants to do first. We came together.”

Kuroo is drunk, but not drunk enough that he doesn’t catch how Kenma doesn’t say no. He grins and hops on their counter to take a seat. He can feel his numb cheeks stretched into a smile, but he doesn’t want to give himself away, trying his damn hardest to seem nonchalant. “He can stay too. If he wants to, I mean. The couch is free.”

Both Kuroo and Kenma turn their gaze to the direction of the couch, where Akaashi’s cheeks are completely red as Bokuto whispers something into his ear. It’s not like earlier when Akaashi was stiff and his face was mono-expressive, watching Bokuto with the same bland expression regardless of if Bokuto cracked a joke that made the whole room bust out in laughter or if he threw himself to the floor with fat, crocodile tears when somebody teased his hair. No, something is off, something that Kuroo should have realized earlier, but he’s too focused on the way Kenma’s heat feels against his shoulder and the way he thinks he can feel Kenma’s breath on his neck. Damn hormones.

“It, uh, looks like Bokuto doesn’t mind him.”

“More than that,” Kenma says flatly, and Kuroo swallows deeply as they watch Bokuto accidentally kick his cup of cranvodka all over their new carpet and Akaashi receive his cranberry-juice stained lips.

“Looks like you’re staying over, kitten.”

Kuroo knows for a fact that Kenma is drunk because he actually snorts and fake meows at Kuroo’s teasing for once. Before Kuroo can point it out, the microwave beeps, letting Kuroo know his pizza rolls are done.

-

“A bunk bed can’t support the weight of four people,” Kenma explains for the fifth time, obviously at his wits’ end. Ever the rationale one, it’s Kenma who steers Akaashi away from the bedroom and toward the couch.

“But I wanna sleep with Akaaaaaaashiiiii!” Bokuto wails. _Wails_.

“I will miss you, Bokuto-san, but I will not forget you,” Kenma’s friend replies back far too reverently for a guy who’s slurring every other word. Akaashi isn’t too different from Bokuto. Apparently he’s so far gone that he’s crying as well, though luckily for Kuroo and Bokuto’s neighbors, crying quietly. Akaashi reaches out dramatically like he’s in a tragic romantic drama with his pretty, silent tears streaming down his face, and Bokuto mirrors the pose, only it’s Kuroo holding him back.

“Then sleep with him on the couch!” Kenma huffs, barely able to maneuver the compliant but sobbing nuisance away from the bedroom. Akaashi falls to the couch with a soft thump of the couch’s cushions, his weeping instantly stopping as he passes out over the armrest

There’s no holding back Bokuto by that point, and Bokuto trips over himself and falls right on Akaashi, passing out similarly once he’s snuggled up, glued to his new friend’s back. Kuroo sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. “He’s such a pain in the ass.”

“Mm,” Kenma agrees. He doesn’t protest at the two passed out on the couch or try to pull them apart; Kenma is a lot lazier than Kuroo in that respect. He simply marches into Bokuto and Kuroo’s shared bedroom and begins to crawl beneath Kuroo’s covers.

“Bokuto’s bunk is free if he’s not going to use it for the night,” Kuroo points out in an awed daze.

Kenma shrugs. “I’m tired already.”

Kuroo decides to take one out of Kenma’s book and not question it. He crawls behind Kenma into his brand-new bed and blames the vodka for wrapping his arms around his best friend.

-

In truth Kuroo hadn’t drank that much, more concerned with getting everybody else at their party wasted, so the morning after isn’t so bad for him. He has a slight headache but knows it’ll be gone by the afternoon just from the feel of it, but what makes him feel awful is waking up and _not_ feeling Kenma’s warmth.

He rolls onto his back instantly, as surprised to see Kenma sitting on the edge of the bed as he is to find Kenma not in his arms. Play it cool, he reminds himself, and stretches like a lazy cat, propping himself on one elbow. “Sleep well?”

“Yes,” Kenma says simply, though his mouth is stiff, as if upset. Kuroo notices that his phone is in his hand and plugged into Kuroo’s cord, so it can’t possibly be a dead phone upsetting his friend. Before he gets a chance to ask, Kenma sets his phone aside and stares at Kuroo. “Everybody woke up and went home.”

“That’s good.” Kuroo switches his gaze from Kenma to the door and back to Kenma, noting that it’s closed. He doesn’t remember closing it yesterday, not that all his memories are super clear. “I don’t feel like cooking, so maybe we can wake up Bokuto and eat out for breakfast.”

“Keiji stayed over too,” Kenma says, his expression only becoming harder.

“Great. Let’s invite him too.”

Kenma’s expression once again hardens until it’s too cute and Kuroo can’t help but release a laugh. The air that passes through his lips sounds more like a fart than a laugh, but he scoops his friend into his arms despite making such an uncool sound. “What’s got you all bothered, huh?”

Kenma doesn’t resist and simply flops against Kuroo’s chest like a ragdoll, words muffled by strong pecs. “Everybody who left? _I_ didn’t wake them up.”

“Okay…?”

After a short while of Kuroo giving no answer, Kenma looks up, still frowning, and explains, “ _they_ woke them up because _they_ were going at it.”

“Um.” And Kuroo truly doesn’t know what to say. He blames the hangover but it’s rare that Kenma doesn’t make sense. Kenma merely scowls and pushes himself away from Kuroo to open the door. Kuroo follows him and hears the sounds before he gets an unwanted eyeful of Bokuto’s ass and yells out, “God damn it, Bokuto!”

Bokuto yells back something like, “sorry, bro!” but Kuroo can’t really tell because Bokuto’s mouth is stuffed with Akaashi’s cock.

-

They say nothing and don’t bother with showers. Bokuto’s breath reeks the heaviest of booze, but the waitress merely shakes her head and asks them what they want to eat.

“Coffee,” they all answer in unison.

-

“So that…was a morning,” Kuroo says at breakfast, once they’re all seated upright and have coffee in their hands. Kenma’s seated next to him, which means Bokuto and the guy from last night are inevitably seated next to each other on the other side of the table. Normally Kuroo wouldn’t mind this arrangement, but he has a hunch that he should change who’s sitting next to who. How he wished he trusted that hunch.

Bokuto answers first, and he genuinely looks sorry in that cheeky, just-got-caught-stealing-a-cookie-from-the-jar kind of way. “Sorry, Akaashi’s bedhead was so cute, I couldn’t help myself. All I could think of was, ‘man! I really gotta suck this guy’s dick!’”

“That’s not appropriate table conversation at all,” Akaashi scolds, but unlike Bokuto, he doesn’t look sorry at all.

Kuroo is too busy trying to figure out how Bokuto’s mind works that he can’t really focus on their banter, but he does catch, “at least I didn’t tell them about rimming you last night,” and, “if you keep that up, I won’t return the favor.” That’s the first time Kuroo wishes for brain bleach, though he really should have saved that wish for one week later.

“You two seem…close,” Kenma observes. His voice is just as tired as Kuroo’s, the bags under his eyes much darker, and Kuroo has known Kenma far longer than Bokuto to know that Kenma is extremely close to losing it.

“That’s because we’re dating!” Bokuto gushes. Kuroo spits out his coffee.

Akaashi has the nerve to make a face like he’s disgusted with Kuroo and the way his coffee leaves untidy puddles of coffee on the table, but Kuroo’s reality check says that he’s the only one with the right to make that face. “ _Dating?_ You just met!”

“Well, actually we’ve known each other since high school. Akaashi played setter for Fukuroudani Academy. Remember them? They were strong. Anyway, he’s the guy who’d always set for me during training camp. So cool, right!? I thought he was _awesome,_ and as it turns out he thought the same about me,” Bokuto explains as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and don’t think Kuroo doesn’t see how he easily wraps an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders. The waitress glares at them while refilling their coffees, but Bokuto and Akaashi are completely unfazed by her icy stare. “So I said, ‘hey Akaashi! Set some balls for me again sometime.’ And then he said, ‘I know where you can set some balls right no--’”

“ _Bokuto-san_ ,” Akaashi chides sharply, finally blushing. Kuroo tells by Akaashi’s stiff shoulder that he’s pinching Bokuto somewhere hard, but his repressed memories block out where exactly.

It’s certainly awkward after that, not only because nobody knows what to say, but Kuroo can’t decide where to even begin. He keeps starting and restarting sentences, ultimately giving up and shaking his head, letting out a breath that sounds more like a hiss.

“…I didn’t bring you to this party just to hook up,” Kenma eventually says, quietly.

Kuroo grips his hands into fists before he does something stupid like hug Kenma, but he sees Akaashi’s genuinely hurt expression and restrains himself from making a joke of it.

“It’s not like that. _Please_ believe me, Kozume-san. It’s as Bokuto-san said. I admit that being drunk made me uninhibited in my actions, but I didn’t expect to…meet my soulmate.”

“ _That’s_ what you’re going with?” Kuroo drawls, unimpressed.

Kenma looks up from his game, and that’s how Kuroo knows it’s serious now. Kuroo won’t ever forget that moment because he has never, ever in his entire life seen Kenma look more lost or frustrated, not even the first time he tried to drive the Mako. “You don’t even know him!”

“It sounds ridiculous.” Kuroo is only surprised that it’s Bokuto saying it, but his hand around Akaashi’s shoulder clutches into a fist and flexes. “I know that. I don’t expect either of you to understand but… Kuroo, you’re my bro and I wanted you to be the first to know. And Kenma, you’re the bro of my bro so you’re important to me too. We feel the same and we’re serious about this, okay? It’s not like-- It’s not like…”

Kuroo has to hand it to Akaashi, since he’s known Bokuto for maybe an hour -- two hours tops -- sober, and already he’s shushing Bokuto in a way that’s sure to calm him down. But Bokuto is too emotional, too passionate, and he slams his fist on the table too hard, announces too loudly: “We didn’t just hook up! We made love!”

Kuroo, honestly, only has one thing to say: “ _Bruh_.”


	2. Day one

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 1:09 PM  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** What just happened?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** no clue. still trying to figure it out myself  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Is keiji still over?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** yeah  
  


Kuroo, skulking in his and Bokuto’s shared bedroom, which he now proclaims to be a boyfriend-free zone, tiptoes to the doorway and peeks into the living room. Bokuto and Akaashi are curled and snuggled up on Kuroo’s beaten up couch and watching something on TV, though their eyes keep flitting to each other. While it looks like they're innocently eating popcorn out of a colander -- since Kuroo and Bokuto don’t own any actual bowls -- and throwing popcorn at each other, Kuroo knows better than to believe either Akaashi or Bokuto are capable of innocence. Their cuddling is so pure and carefree, Kuroo notices, as though they aren’t aware that they’d just taken three years off Kuroo’s life from this morning's stressful conversation. Some of the butter drips onto Bokuto’s lap where the bowl balances and Kuroo thinks, _good_ , in the hopes it might stop them from having sex. He doesn’t entertain that thought further, explicitly to stop himself from considering that Bokuto is probably the type to find popcorn butter arousing.

Kitty Kat   
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** they’re watching tv  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Keep an eye on them  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** trust me i am  
  


Kuroo returns to his bunk and flops over to face the wall. He pretends not to hear the silly sounds from the TV or the way Akaashi fondly says, “Bokuto-san,” as if he’s brushing a piece of buttery popcorn off Bokuto’s cheek.

Kitty Kat   
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** i just don’t get it  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** they seem so sure!!!  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Keiji is careful. This is unlike him  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** bokuto moves quick but not THIS quick  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Maybe he’s lonely.  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** nah. i hate to say it but  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** But?  
  


Kuroo bites his lip and tries not to imagine what Bokuto and _Akaashi_ are up to. It’s driving him mad! He has the brilliant idea that actually seeing what Bokuto and Akaashi are doing can’t be worse than whatever his mind concocts, but that backfires horribly. When he oh-so-casually struts to kitchen, expecting to find Bokuto pressing Akaashi’s face into the carpet and riding his ass, Bokuto merely moves closer to the center of the couch -- that horrible part that’s permanently indented and the worst to sit on -- and pats the space beside him. “Wanna join us? We’re watching Hole in the Wall reruns.”

Not trusting his voice, Kuroo shakes his head. He decides to make cereal to give himself an excuse for leaving the room, but he can’t shake the image of Akaashi nuzzling his cheek against Bokuto’s shoulder, the two of them biting their lips to stop from making ridiculous smiles whenever they look at each other, or the teasing way they’re playing footsie, so wrapped in each other that they might as well turn the TV off.

Kitty Kat   
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** But?  
  
**Today** 1:13 PM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** i’ve never seen him this happy before  
  


Kuroo shoves a spoonful of corn flakes in his mouth and bitterly crunches them between his molars.

Kitty Kat   
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Me neither  
  


-

Bokuto leans over the back of the couch and asks, “want some ramen?”

“You making? Then sure,” Kuroo says easily, grinning. Akaashi left about an hour ago and Kuroo’s pleased to have his best friend all to himself again. He doesn’t like Bokuto like _that_ \-- no, no, of course not, that was a role filled exclusively by Kenma -- but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t missed his friend. True, it hadn’t even been a day, but the Bokuto in front of him seems so different from the Bokuto Kuroo knew for the past four years. Heck, when Bokuto looked at Akaashi, Kuroo saw a stranger compared to the buddy he knew last night.

Initially Kuroo had this grand plan of waking up, nursing Bokuto through his hangover (which in retrospect Kuroo did _not_ miss and would happily let Akaashi hold back Bokuto’s hair as he moaned over the toilet like a freshman at his first party all over again,) and watching every Die Hard movie back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back, but he can improvise. Instant ramen is a good start to the first day of officially living with his bro in Apartment Awesome. It feels responsible and adultlike, worrying about health, money, and bland food. “What flavor are you making?”

“Shrimp,” Bokuto says as he pours two salty packets into the pan of crispy noodles.

Kuroo should have known to be suspicious, since Bokuto’s cooking repertoire is limited to anything that can be heated in a microwave, cereal, and energy bars, but Kuroo honestly thought it might be an apologetic gesture. Yes, Kuroo used to be naïve enough to believe in such things, but that was before he saw the obscene amount of food Bokuto’s cooking. “Do we need that much?”

“Akaashi’s coming back in a bit. He just left to take a shower and tell his roommate he’s not dead,” Bokuto says, again in that ‘Silly Kuroo! Didn’t you know?’ kind of voice.

“Oh.” It’s one syllable and little more than a puff of air, but Kuroo channels all the judgmental energy contained within his flesh prison into that one word. He turns his back before he’s confronted with Bokuto’s reaction and plays a horror movie, knowing fully well they keep Bokuto up at night from nightmares.

“Whoa, bro. Is that a problem?”

Even though Kuroo hears the genuine concern in Bokuto’s voice, he pumps the volume up. “Nope. Not at all.”

-

“So…you two are serious about dating,” Kuroo concludes, partly into the meal. If he’s truly honest with himself, he expected Bokuto and Akaashi to have broken up by now. He hates to admit it, but it’s not because of Akaashi. Sure, it’s only one day -- more like fifteen hours, but hey, who’s counting? -- into their “relationship,” but Kuroo can already see what a saint Akaashi is. He’s patient with Bokuto, treats everything Bokuto says seriously when others would take him for a joke, and lets Bokuto be as physically affectionate as he wants. As loathe as Kuroo is to admit it, he’s a perfect match for Bokuto; but -- and this is the big _but_ \-- this is Bokuto.

By no means does he hold it against his bro, but poor Akaashi has no idea what he’s getting into after one night of revelry and the body’s delights. Bokuto’s farts are deadly, and he’s so petty that if he forgets his beloved kneepads before an important match, he simply won’t play, whining that he doesn’t look cool enough without them. Kuroo knows. It's happened once at Nationals, and Bokuto took a full hour of coach’s yelling rather than sacrifice his pride. High maintenance, moody, and over dramatic, Kuroo knows Bokuto’s faults well. Bokuto can be incredibly affectionate and is great fun, but he’s also fussy, impatient, and a complete showoff. Compared to Akaashi’s cool exterior, all Kuroo can see is a metaphorical piece of dynamite with a timer clicking down from one hundred. It’s not like Bokuto had a lot of experience with relationships, always being too much, too much, too much, and while jumping into head-first is completely Bokuto’s style, it’s also incredibly stupid. Bokuto is Kuroo’s best friend, and it’s precisely because Bokuto is his best friend that Kuroo doesn’t want to see him get hurt.

“ _Very_ ,” Akaashi says sharply, eyes narrowing. It sends a sinister chill crawling up Kuroo’s spine, but before Kuroo can consider that maybe Akaashi is secretly the Babadook in a beautiful (literal) skin suit, Bokuto interjects.

“We’ve thought about it all, dude. We got our schedules and volleyball practice all figured out. We’ll have even more time together when Akaashi makes it onto the team. -- Oh! And Akaashi’s even going to make me do study hours with him to help keep my grades up. That’s pretty romantic, right?” Kuroo doesn’t know if he should wince or laugh, but considering that both are apt reactions, he lets his face fold into a restrained laugh-turned-wince at the thought of Bokuto willingly sitting down with a textbook. As much as he dreads it, he can already see the enthusiastic dreams that would fade as soon as they sparkled, leaving behind a wake of Bokuto’s frustration or, worse, heartbreak. “And on the weekends, we’re totally gonna do coupley things.”

“Such as?” Kuroo asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow. Later he’d reflect on this moment as his moment of hubris, the moment his pride ensured his downfall. After all, Bokuto is stubborn as a default, but when challenged, Bokuto is entirely relentless when trying to prove his point.

Akaashi takes hold of Bokuto’s hand and their fate is sealed. He squeezes Bokuto’s hand, and Bokuto squeezes back. “Bokuto-san has already communicated to me his intentions to take me on dates involving crepes, crane machine games, and Mickey Mouse ears.”

“And I’m totally gonna beat Akaashi’s ass at DDR!” Bokuto adds enthusiastically.

“When you know you’re incredibly adept at something, the polite thing to do is to let your date win,” Akaashi chides lightly, though it sounds more like a challenge when he smirks like that.

Bokuto follows up with something about Akaashi needing to be on his level to date him or something about prizes inside crane games. Whatever it is, it sounds like white noise to Kuroo. It’s incredibly frustrating to watch the two flirt right in front of him when he openly doubts their relationship, and he only feels more bitter when he focuses on how Bokuto rubs this thumb along Akaashi’s knuckles.

Bokuto likes Akaashi. Akaashi likes Bokuto. It’s simple. Too simple. It’s like they don’t see how badly this could end, and it could end _badly_.

Kuroo doesn’t want to go so far as to break them up forever, but he’d appreciate if they took some time to get to know each other for a bit before committing so deeply and quickly to each other. Do you really know a person if you don’t live next door to each other and be best friends for eighteen years? (Kuroo’s inclined to say no.) Kuroo confesses that it’s an ugly, ugly part of him that schemes this brilliant idea, but he knows just how to make the new couple aware of just how little they know each other. Maybe then and only then, they’d realize they need to cool it off a bit.

“Well if you two are so sure, then it should be no problem if I challenge Akaashi to a little game to see how well he _really_ knows you, right, bro?”

Ever the drama queen, Bokuto gasps, complete with slapping his hands against his cheeks. “Bro, _no!_ ”

“I’ll do it,” Akaashi agrees immediately, unaware of the disgrace and fraud he’d be revealed to be.

Kuroo cackles darkly, immediately rising from the table, jumping over their falling-apart couch, and rushing into the closet, where his secret weapon is stored, in one fluid motion. “I’ll get the boards!”

“Aww, c’mon, Kuroo! You’re not really gonna do it are you?” Bokuto whines. Kuroo can imagine Bokuto nervously looking from Kuroo’s butt sticking out of the closet to Akaashi, but Kuroo has to do this. For his bro. For his bro’s relationship. And for their bromance.

“What is ‘it,’ exactly?” Kuroo hears Akaashi ask. If anything, his mild, unconcerned tone only frustrates Kuroo even more. He doesn’t sound worried like he should be. Soon he will be humiliated, shown to not know Bokuto at all, and this little fantasy of theirs will be exposed for what it truly is.

“It’s just a stupid game-- Ugh, for real, Kuroo? You’re _really_ going to do this?” Kuroo almost feels bad hearing his best friend’s annoyed voice, but that’s before he sees the twin dry erase boards ready to rid the world of Bokuto’s so-called-boyfriend. “Um, you know that one show? Like, there’s a question and I write something down and you have to write down an answer and guess what I wrote? It’s like that. Kuroo and I play it all the time at parties as a drinking game since we’ve known each other forever. I mean, I guess it’s not that impressive…”

“It’s very impressive to have a friend that knows you so well,” Akaashi insists, and Kuroo mentally gags at the cheesiness.

Casually sitting down to mask any outward appearance of his intentions, Kuroo reveals the boards dramatically, just like he does at the parties Bokuto just mentioned. “It’s the newlyweds game. That shouldn’t be a problem for you two since you’re basically newlyweds, right?”

“You’ve known Bokuto-san longer and more intimately than I have,” Akaashi says, cool gaze unbothered yet words crisp and calculated (Kuroo internally dying when he thinks about Bokuto and himself being intimate, in fact), but Akaashi persists, “but it seems like an appropriate challenge. Shall we raise the stakes?”

Kuroo raises his brow. Bokuto makes grabbyhands for his board and uncaps his dry erase marker, but little does he know Kuroo is raging a man-on-man war with his deadliest rival yet. Kuroo has enough pride to admit he admires Akaashi’s guts, but he’s still annoyed by how picture perfect they are already, which far outweighs any admiration Kuroo might have for Akaashi. “Why not? Sounds interesting. What are you thinking?”

“You obviously don’t approve of Bokuto-san’s relationship with me,” Akaashi says, voice free of any inflection that gives away his feelings toward Kuroo’s judgement, but Bokuto’s jaw drops. Before he can squawk out an objection, Akaashi continues, “so how about this: if I win, then you must accept our relationship. But if I lose, I will break up with Bokuto-san tonight.”

“Akaaaaaashi!! You wouldn’t really break up with me, would you!?” Bokuto pounds both hands on the table so hard that it rattles, but the other two ignore it, much too busy with their stand-off. First one to crack loses, Kuroo knows all too well.

Kuroo may be one crafty son of a gun, but heartless he is not. Seeing his bro’s betrayed expression and wide puppy eyes is too much for even his crusty heart to bear. His smirk drops and he shakes his head. “I appreciate the extremity but no need to get all melodramatic just for little old me. How’s this: I’ll still accept your relationship if you win, but if you lose, you’ll let me have a bro night with my best buddy there tonight. This is supposed to be our first official bro night, after all.”

Akaashi’s mouth twitches and Kuroo can practically hear his smug inner voice warning Kuroo not underestimate him, but Kuroo just can’t push it further, not when Bokuto is already whining in that way that makes Kuroo want to wrap him up in a blanket, aggressively hug him until he stops crying, and stuff him into a pocket for safekeeping. His back pocket, that is, since Bokuto is a pain in his ass.

“Sounds fair,” Akaashi agrees and sticks out his hand in good sportsmanship. He has a firm handshake and any other time, Kuroo might have admired how Akaashi presented himself as a man of his word. Damn him. “Well, shall we begin?”

Kuroo knows that if he looks over at Bokuto, he’ll find Bokuto’s puppy eyes so glassy and endearing that he won’t be able to keep up this cruel charade, so he simply doesn’t look at his friend. After explaining the rules to Akaashi, they agree Akaashi should be the one to guess and Kuroo will call out questions.

“First question!” Kuroo announces with a glimmer in his eye. “Bokuto’s stranded on an abandoned island. Who’s the one person he’d bring with him?”

Kuroo rubs his hands as Akaashi immediately sets to scribbling. Bokuto looks reluctant and shakes his head at Kuroo with the onset of a pout, but Kuroo vows it’s for Bokuto’s own good and that casualties are inevitable. He waits until both of their pens stop before telling them to flip the boards over.

This is an easy one, Kuroo thinks to himself, since he knows Bokuto loves the Die Hard movies and thinks John McClane is basically the biggest badass to ever badass. He snickers when Akaashi’s flips his answer over, ‘Rey,’ written in neat penmanship, and his chest warms in delight, confident he’d won this round. He looks at Bokuto’s board next and nearly chokes. “What the hell, bro? You always said your answer was Die Hard!”

“John McClane,” Akaashi corrects. Kuroo doesn’t think it’s possible to hate anybody more than Daishou Suguru, but Akaashi is certainly trying to give Daishou a run for his money.

Bokuto nods sheepishly, cheeks flush, and scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, he’s cool and _the man_ and all, but it’s like… Weren’t you watching the Force Awakens? Rey is totally badass! And like, she has a _lightsaber!_ ”

Akaashi raises his eyebrow. “Next?”

Kuroo restrains himself from screaming and instead chooses one that he knows Akaashi can’t possibly know. “Fine, what’s Bokuto’s favorite ice cream flavor?”

Bokuto gasps and whines, “not cool!” but Akaashi slowly rubs the board off with his sleeve and begins to write. Kuroo feels a little bit guilty about this one since Bokuto is sensitive about it and it’s a little bit of a breach of the Bro Code, but he can’t have Akaashi winning the upper hand so easily. He needs immediate arsenal to ensure Akaashi’s defeat. The prize of pride and bragging rights is far more important than the actual prize now, since it’s now a duel to see who knows Bokuto best.

Bokuto growls out a sigh when he’s stopped grumbling and caps his marker, and Kuroo announces it’s time to flip the boards again. As expected, Bokuto’s board has, “Kuroo’s mom’s breastmilk,” written on it, and smugly Kuroo turns to Akaashi’s board. He feels all the blood from his face drain blood vessel by blood vessel when he sees, “breastmilk,” neatly written. Akaashi raises one eyebrow in challenge to Kuroo when they lock eyes, and the other raises in shock when he reads Bokuto’s board. “You didn’t tell me it was from Kuroo-san’s mom last night…”

Bokuto bites his bottom lip, looking away. “It was embarrassing enough to say I ate breastmilk ice cream and it was the best thing ever, okay!?”

“You told him?” Kuroo asks, lost, now feeling betrayed more than ever. They had sworn on his mom’s breastfeeding teats to never repeat the story to anybody for as long as they lived! “You broke the Bro Code!”

“I didn’t say anything about your mom,” Bokuto pouts, roaring back, “and anyway you broke it too when you asked that question!”

“You broke it first!”

“You wouldn’t have known I broke it if you hadn’t asked! And it’s not--” Bokuto sucks in a breath, looking Kuroo in the eye. His cheeks are red but Kuroo knows he’s being honest, especially if Bokuto dared to be honest with his answer already. “It’s not a breach of the Bro Code when it’s the love of your life, right? We said that. Since you tell everything to Ke--“

“It’s close enough, so it counts,” Kuroo admits, cutting off Bokuto. He grits his teeth, now feeling the pressure of the situation. “It counts. Okay, next one. This one’s easy… What’s the one thing Bokuto always does on his days off?”

-

Honestly Kuroo expects something more modest from Akaashi, but he shouldn’t be surprised when he flashes a, “He faps on the couch,” in his pretty handwriting to match Bokuto’s scribbles. Kuroo even restrains a laugh, refusing to let Akaashi have the satisfaction of knowing he has the upper hand or any semblance that Kuroo might be enjoying this, at the crude stick figure Akaashi draws to complement his answer.

“I don’t bend over like that when I do it, though,” Bokuto corrects in a serious voice, making corrections to Akaashi’s diagram with his marker. “It’s more like this-- See? All out in the open. It’s more comfortable that way.”

“TMI, dude,” Kuroo says, but he howls out a laugh at Bokuto’s petty corrections. Of anything in this situation, of course Bokuto’s concern is with his jerking off pose. “I don’t really want to know and I know I’ll regret asking this, but how does Akaashi even know?”

“I made the mistake of asking him about a stain on the couch last night. But I’ll keep it in mind,” Akaashi says back in a tone as equally serious as Bokuto’s, and Bokuto brightens up, apparently interpreting to mean Akaashi’s remark is an invitation to elaborate.

Bokuto’s all smiles and shamelessness, thrusting out his chest and putting both hands on his hips. “Like, if I’m lazy enough to do it on the couch, then I’m not caring about Kuroo walking in and getting an eyeful!”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” Akaashi says in observation. It pleases Kuroo that at long last he’s frowning at Bokuto judgmentally, but also he’s insulted to find that Bokuto's known exactly what he’s doing whenever Kuroo's walked in on him jacking off for the past year.

“I am so unloved,” Kuroo groans out in faked agony, but his shoulders are still shaking from laughter when he calls out the next question.

-

From there it only goes downhill. Best childhood memory. Favorite procrastination activity. Bokuto’s guilty pleasure song to sing in the shower. It doesn’t matter what Kuroo throws at him, Akaashi is either a mind reader or Bokuto’s honest-to-god soulmate because he answers even the most ridiculous questions with scarily precise accuracy.

-

“Okay! Okay! I got another!” Kuroo announces, literally waving his arms between the two to get them to stop making doe eyes at each other, the last question having been about what Bokuto likes best about Akaashi. (Kuroo didn’t want or need to know that Bokuto likes Akaashi’s long fingers best, but then again, life had been particularly cruel to him lately.) “Bokuto’s favorite pokemon, go.”

It’s just a hunch, but it proves a correct one when Kuroo eyes Akaashi and notices that Akaashi is staring back at Kuroo, his board still blank. Kuroo smirks, mouthing, ‘gotcha!’ at Akaashi. Akaashi’s eyes sharpen into a glare.

Thanks to the freaky psychic connection Bokuto has with Akaashi or his animal instincts noticing the unsettled mood of his mate, Bokuto looks up from his board and says, “Akaashi.”

“Yes, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi responds immediately, nodding back.

“No talking while writing answers!” Kuroo says, looking between the two. He’s not sure what’s happening in that brief exchange and technically saying names isn’t that same as discussing an answer, but Kuroo’s not going to risk it. He doesn’t trust the way they looked at each other, eyes meeting for only a second but filled with intent.

“Time’s up!” Kuroo calls out sooner than usual, hoping that changing the rhythm might help, but Akaashi seems relaxed now. They’d just have to see about that. “Let’s see those boards.”

Bokuto and Akaashi turn their boards and don’t even look at each other, but Kuroo immediately screeches, “bullshit! I call bullshit!”

“They both say the same thing,” Akaashi says, nodding to their boards.

Kuroo takes a deep breath, claps his palms together, and in complete seriousness, goes in. “Nobody’s favorite pokemon is Pikachu. That’s just tacky.” Bokuto snorts in agreement, which reminds Kuroo that he’s a culprit too. He stabs a finger in Bokuto’s direction, leering at him too. “And I know for a fact your favorite pokemon is Machamp because you cried and wouldn’t shut up when I didn’t trade it back to you!”

“Akaashi doesn’t know what a Machamp is!” he protests.

“I don’t know what a Machamp is,” Akaashi agrees.

“So you’re wrong!”

“But our boards say the same thing. That means we win!”

“It’s a lie! Nothing but lies!”

“Well then,” Bokuto begins, huffing, “I’m changing my favorite pokemon! It’s Pikachu now!”

“You can’t do that, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, and Kuroo only hates that he agrees with Akaashi for once. All hell breaks lose with Kuroo arguing that one’s favorite pokemon is a reflection of their very soul while Bokuto insists he’s changed his favorite pokemon for good, even crossing his arms and jutting out his bottom lip defiantly at Kuroo. No matter how much they bicker or squabble, it all comes down to one thing, which Akaashi asks with a smirk, “so our answer counts, right?”

It's only then that Kuroo realizes the true power of a couple. Bokuto and Akaashi were making drift partners seem like blind dates.

-

“Since you’re so adamant about this, why don’t you answer and Bokuto-san can guess?” Akaashi suggests, handing the white board over like a goodwill gift. “We can do favorite pokemon again to keep things fair.”

Kuroo immediately snatches it and starts scribbling. Bokuto erases and scribbles as well, unable to stop laughing as he draws.

Akaashi frowns disapprovingly as they turn their boards around without prompting, and even Kuroo’s holding back some chuckles when Akaashi responds as though he and Bokuto aren’t 100% trolling him with dicks drawn on their boards. “I don’t remember any pokemon that looks like that.”

“Erectabuzz!” they chant in unison.

-

Akaashi suggests continuing to play over a bottle of wine, which quickly turns into two bottles of wine, six rosy cheeks, and one of their phones blasting crappy music in the background. Kuroo’s shoulders feel loose and he can tell he’s smiling without even trying. Bokuto laughs at Kuroo’s and Akaashi’s answers, now the ones paired up and answering completely oppositely and contrarily worse than Kuroo and Yaku years before, but Kuroo doesn’t snap at him or even at Akaashi, when Akaashi refills his coffee mugs with water and wine. With his judgement slightly fuzzy, he admits himself this is the one and only good thing to come out of Akaashi so far, but he’d never admit that he’s actually enjoying himself.

-

Two glasses of the fruitiest pinot grigio Kuroo’s ever had the pleasure of drinking later, he passive aggressively asks, “what’s the shortest acceptable amount of time before jumping into a relationship?”

Bokuto and Akaashi both write back, equally as passive aggressively, “as soon as you see his dick.”

-

Kuroo, very seriously, confesses, “Erectabuzz doesn’t exist.”

“I gathered that already, but thank you, Kuroo-san.”

-

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 6:58 PM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** quick question: what’s my fave pokemon?  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Dicktini  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** shit that’s better than erectabuzz  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** I know you better than you know yourself  
  


- 

Kuroo lets out a screaming hyena laugh at Bokuto’s answer, Kuroo now posing questions about how well Bokuto knows Akaashi. Bokuto and Akaashi may have wrote matching answers, but their highfive is a piteous one as their boards reveal, “Can I suck your dick, baby?” to Kuroo’s question of, “what were the first words Bokuto said to you this morning?”

-

Akaashi, the only one who can hold his wine enough to answer the door when it starts pounding a few rounds later, returns to the kitchen, frowning so deeply that Kuroo thinks his soul has left his body. “You okay, dude?”

“Your building has a silence policy. Also, your neighbors want to let you know that you’re on your second warning. Please try to be more responsible about your contract’s regulations, both of you. You signed a lease.” Akaashi blushes and it seems like he has something else to say, but his mouth screws shut, and he looks away, matter settled.

“Guess the game’s over then,” Bokuto sighs out, slumped over the table and digging his cheek into his dry erase board. “I swear I’m gonna pee from laughing so hard if Kuroo asks what Akaashi said after that.”

“ _Well_.”

“No,” Akaashi says swiftly, snatching his board and marker away from Kuroo. “This game is over.”

“One more round!” Kuroo pleas. Bokuto shifts from one cheek to the other, eyeing Kuroo, and Akaashi looks just as dubious. “C’mon, one more round! It’s a fun one, I promise.” 

Everything in Akaashi’s face screams, ‘no,’ and, ‘I don’t trust you,’ but Bokuto’s hum has a hint of mischievousness in it. “Okay, one more. -- But only if it’s not about Akaashi, okay?”

Bokuto looks to Akaashi for confirmation, and although Akaashi holds his breath for two seconds longer than Kuroo’s liking, he takes a seat and nods. “If you insist.”

“You two should know this one.” Kuroo leans himself on both elbows over the table, both cheeks propped in his hands. He only has a split-second to decide if he really wants to know the answer to this question, but he releases his bottom lip from the hold he’d had from chewing on it and takes a deep breath. “Who said, ‘I love you,’ first?”

-

“Technically your answers don’t match,” Kuroo says, throat choked, Akaashi’s board revealing, ‘him,’ and Bokuto’s board revealing, ‘me,’ “but I think it counts.”

-

Kuroo groans miserably as Bokuto reads off the tally count Akaashi had been keeping. It’s obvious who won even without a score, but hearing the score just makes Kuroo feel saltier. Akaashi collects all the mugs and shoves a cork from his pocket into what remains of the wine bottle, placing it in Kuroo and Bokuto’s sad, empty fridge, which consists of soy sauce, a few convenience store onigiri, and some of the leftover pizza rolls Kuroo made last night. Akaashi pats Kuroo on the shoulder before reclaiming his seat, extending an open palm. It’s not two seconds later before Bokuto grabs it and squeezes tightly. “We did it, Akaashi!”

“So we did, Bokuto-san.”

-

“A good portion of those answers were mine as well,” Akaashi confesses modestly, only making Kuroo want to bash his face against their ping pong-turned-dinner table even harder. The least Akaashi can do is be a bit smugger about it!

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 9:30 PM  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Stop listening into their conversations  
  


Kuroo looks down at Kenma’s astute but scarily timed text, wondering if Kenma is also a mind reader. Bokuto and Akaashi are batting their eyelashes at each other on Kuroo’s ratty couch, and it takes everything in Kuroo not to watch them bump noses or do equally disgusting things that would not be disgusting if it was, say, himself and Kenma. Or any other two individuals on the face of the earth that aren’t Bokuto and Akaashi, really.

“You weren’t really going to break up with me if you lost, were you?” Bokuto asks in a small voice that Kuroo is technically not supposed to be listening to. Their apartment is small, but Kuroo knows eavesdropping is straight-out rude. Doesn’t mean he stops doing it.

“I would have looked into some creative plans to remain by your side. We might have had to leave the country.” Kuroo resists the urge to cringe audibly.

“Paris sounds nice.” Kuroo drags his hands down his face. _No, no, no, bro,_ Kuroo’s internal dialogue screams, _you don’t go with something as cliché as that_.

“You don’t know how to speak any French, do you?” Akaashi asks seriously with a tilt of his head, and Kuroo perks up at that, zooming in on the back of their heads. At long last, Akaashi might see what a dweeb -- albeit an endearing dweeb -- his roommate is!

Kuroo takes special care in watching how Bokuto snakes an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders, tilts his head so that his lips are practically pressed against the shell of Akaashi’s ear, and the way he says too loudly to be sexy, “I can say, ‘voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir.’”

Honestly? Kuroo is dying of secondhand embarrassment and makes a mental note to teach Bokuto how to seduce an interested potential boyfriend. Kuroo groans and grips his phone tightly as Akaashi _giggles_ and kisses Bokuto chastely on the lips. Looks like Bokuto is doing just fine without Kuroo’s tips to woo Akaashi with his favorite video game.

-

Accepting his bitter defeat, Kuroo curls up in his bunk while Bokuto says his goodbyes to his _boyfriend_. As petty as Kuroo can be -- and he can be downright petty sometimes -- he is a man of his word and accepts the terms of agreement. That doesn’t mean he’s going to take the high road and not wallow in his misery. He shoves both of his pillows against his ears once he hears sounds confirming that Bokuto is swapping spit with Akaashi.

There’s only one way to get those warm, wet sounds out of his mind, and he’s due for some Kenma attention to recharge his emotionally drained battery anyway.

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 10:23 PM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** update: played the newlyweds game with the lovebirds  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Howd it go?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** akaashi said he’d break up with bokuto if he lost  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** So we’re free?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** akaashi won  
  


A sad, sad testament to his loss, Bokuto waltzes in as if floating on air and even sighs in that way they only do in romance movies featuring white, heterosexual couples. If the reason for his reaction was anybody other than a guy Bokuto hadn’t even known for 24 hours, Kuroo might have even been happy for him. Annoyed by the thought, he checks his phone again while Bokuto drops into a push up.

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 10:24 PM  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Wow.  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Thats actually impressive  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** no kidding. i asked what bokuto’s dream car was and they both drew a monster truck shooting flames out of the wheels. i think they have a psychic connection.  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** I wouldnt put it past them  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** it gets worse.  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** you ready for this?  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Ready  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** he’s actually really cool and funny  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** and he seems to really like bokuto  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** and I’M NOT EVEN LYING ABOUT THIS but he carries wine corks on him?? this is the first time in my life i’m not drinking flat wine with breakfast tomorrow morning  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Sounds too good to be true  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** But it’s keiji.  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** what does that mean???  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Hes the responsible type. I think he likes taking care of people.  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** So what did you bet?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** i have to accept their relationship  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Thats not so bad  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** says you!!! :’((  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Youd have to do it for koutarou eventually  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Youll get over it  
  


The small message might not seem significant or even come off as rude to anybody else, but Kuroo knows Kenma well enough to know that those few words acknowledge all the suckiness Kuroo’s internalizing right now and seeing past it, to a time where he can accept Bokuto’s relationship and be best bros for life once again. Feeling slightly weightless in his chest from the small message, Kuroo dares to rearrange himself to spy on Bokuto. His roommate finishes a final set of push-ups before bed, probably to work off the buzzed energy he still has from Akaashi’s visit. After he’s done, he kicks off his clothes, throws them into a corner, and starts to rattle the entire bed noisily as he climb up the ladder to his bunk. Kuroo snorts, as impressed with Bokuto’s hygiene as he is with Bokuto’s simplicity.

Bro’s bf from HELL  
  
**Today** 11:05 PM  
**[To: Bro’s bf from HELL]** ur bf just did 3 sets of push ups and crawled into bed without even showering  
  
**[From: Bro’s bf from HELL]** Hello, Kuroo-san. I didn’t know you had my number. I’ll add yours to my contacts now.  
  
**[From: Bro’s bf from HELL]** Also, would it be troublesome to get pictures?  
  


No sooner than Kuroo squawks, Bokuto hangs upside down over the rail of his bunk, eyes bright and alert. “You okay, bro?”

“Your boyfriend is something else!” Kuroo spits, cheeks red from Akaashi’s forwardness.

“You’re texting Akaashi?” Bokuto asks delightfully, eyes shining with hope. “Did he say anything about me? Can you tell him I miss him and love him?”

“Text him yourself,” Kuroo pouts and throws one of his pillows at Bokuto’s face. Luckily Bokuto catches it and throws it back to Kuroo, so he doesn’t have to go chasing after it. Bokuto gets the message and rolls back on his bunk. From the stretched cord shaking from the outlet both his and Bokuto’s phone chargers are kept, he can tell Bokuto is already texting Akaashi. Actually, it’s the way Bokuto’s thumbs slap against his screen that Kuroo knows Bokuto’s texting Akaashi. He does the same, texting his beau of choice.

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 11:08 PM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** OH MY GOD KENMA I OFFICIALLY HATE HIM.  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** I TOLD HIM BOKUTO WAS BEING GROSS AND HE ASKED FOR PICS ISTG  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** How gross?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** LIKE WORKING OUT AND GOING TO BED WITHOUT SHOWERING  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Eww  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** I KNOW  
  


Kuroo’s in the middle of a texting tirade against Bokuto’s body odor when Bokuto asks, in a small voice, from above, “do you _really_ not like Akaashi, bro?”

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 11:09 PM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** bbl. the cat is scratching.  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Good luck.  
  


“It’s not that I don’t like him,” Kuroo answers swiftly as he sets his phone aside. Despite his recent text to Akaashi indicating otherwise, Kuroo truly doesn't dislike Akaashi. Being honest with himself, Kuroo is scared. Bokuto barely knows this guy and already he’s so invested. Kuroo knows how bad Bokuto’s lows are, but he has no idea what to expect from a ex-boyfriend low. But Kuroo can’t admit he’s worried about the relationship turning sour or Bokuto will simply, and a bit childishly, deny it, assuring that he and Akaashi are forever. “Everything is happening so fast, I’m about to get whiplash. I just don’t know how you can be so sure.”

Bokuto breathes out so heavily through his nose that Kuroo can hear it. The indents of his body that are visible in the mattress’ underside shift from side to side. Bokuto’s rolling around as he thinks about how to answer. “I _am_ sure. Because it’s like… You know how you feel when you look at Kenma?”

Kuroo’s breath hitches and he squeezes his eyes shut. His bottom lip curls and he really hopes Bokuto isn’t implying what it sounds like Bokuto is implying. “Yeah.”

“It’s like that.”

Kuroo pulls the covers up to his nose and rolls over to where Kenma had slept just last night. His chest feels like it’s caving in on itself. He misses Kenma and craves him now, especially with where this conversation is going. “You don’t know how I feel when I look at Kenma.”

Bokuto’s arm drops down to where just his palm dangles in the air. “I didn’t for awhile. But when I look at Akaashi… I think I get it, bro.”

Kuroo bites back an annoyed groan and highfives him. It’s their “all good?” gesture, and Kuroo means it. _Not_ that he’s happy about Akaashi’s sharp humor, stern handling, or responsible behavior.

Before Kuroo falls asleep, he checks his phone one more time.

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 11:30 PM  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Hope it went well with the codename Cat is Scratching  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Maybe its for the best theyre together  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Sleep it off  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** At least in your dreams you dont have to watch them flirt  
  


“I love you, Kenma,” Kuroo whispers out in a laugh.

Bokuto’s mattress shifts from above, and Kuroo pretends not to hear Bokuto laugh. “I know you do, bro.”


	3. Day two

Kuroo wakes up to the smell of sweat hitting him in the face. Luckily it’s not Bokuto’s balls. If that’s not the kicker of this situation -- that Bokuto’s balls are probably off the market and Kuroo _might_ miss them -- then Kuroo doesn’t know what is. Shit.

“Wake up, Kuroo! Time for some volleyball,” Bokuto chirps in a voice entirely too loud and happy for the godforsaken curse that waking up in the morning.

Kuroo drags the smell of sweat -- blessedly his own clothes, his own sweat -- off his face to see Bokuto already geared up and stretching. For once Kuroo isn’t happy to see Bokuto’s stupid kneepads and the way they manage to make his bulging thighs look impossibly bigger than they actually are.

“It’s _early_. Even for you,” Kuroo protests. When he checks his phone, it says six, and that is two hours too early even for Bokuto’s internal clock.

“C’mon! I wanna go for a run before we play,” Bokuto says, dragging their twin Nekoma High School duffle bags out of the closet. Kuroo closes his eyes with a groan, but not before he sees Bokuto shoving gym towels, fresh clothes, a stick of deodorant, and water bottles with their university logo into the bag.

Without even meaning to, Kuroo dozes for precisely five seconds before Bokuto’s pulling up the pillows from both sides of his face and hitting Kuroo like he’s a drumset and his pillows are drumsticks. “Up! Up! Up!”

“I’m up! I’m up! _Asshole_.” Kuroo rolls out of bed, but it’s with a grin. He kicks off his boxers and throws them at Bokuto’s face, announcing that he’s grabbing his gym clothes.

-

An hour later, Kuroo finally feels like he has his roommate back. They toss jokes at each other while stretching for their warm-up run, and nearly lose their breath trying to outrun each other. For a whole half-mile stretch, they shove shoulders while barking “on your left!” at each other over and over and swerving past each other like a helix of deoxyribonucleic acid. By the time they’re ready to play, Kuroo shoulders and hips are loose and his chest feels light with happiness, his muscles open to the comfort of pushing to the limit with his best friend. Their university team is more demanding than in high school with both independent, personal training and teamwork drills taking up most of their time, so Kuroo and Bokuto haven’t had much time to goof around during practice while also serving their dues as freshmen and keeping up with the sheer intensity of university studies.

“You good?” Bokuto asks, leaning against the counter of the gym’s juice bar, slurping a smoothie with enough chocolate to kick him in the ass later, Kuroo knows.

“I will be after you buy me a Keep The Beet Up smoothie.”

“You wish!” Bokuto sticks his tongue out but buys him the smoothie anyway.

-

In retrospect, Kuroo should have known that too much of a good thing is a bad thing. It’s now a lesson he’d hold dearly to his heart for the rest of his life, but young Kuroo, poor Kuroo, his sweet summer child self Kuroo, was completely naïve to think Bokuto would invite him for one of his insanely long jogs, buy him a tackily named protein smoothie, _and_ invite him to volleyball out of the sheer goodness of Bokuto’s teensy, weensy, little heart.

Well, Kuroo’s teensy, weensy, little heart drops right to the floor at the sight of slender fingers smoothing over a Mikasa volleyball and evergreen eyes sharply focusing on Bokuto. In all his stunning morning glory, Akaashi’s there warmed up and ready to show them what he has. And not in the sexy way, Kuroo reminds himself fondly.

“Aghasshiiiii!”

Without prompting, Akaashi sets the ball, Bokuto charges, leaping directly into the arch of the ball, and--

Completely misses.

Howling like a laughing hyena, Kuroo immediately crosses his arms and clutches his sides as Bokuto arcs and lands so unsteadily, probably in shock from missing the ball, that he falls straight onto his face, butt in the air.

“B-Bokuto-san!” Akaashi stammers, for once embarrassed, and immediately rushes to Bokuto’s side, fussing over him and helping his struggling boyfriend off the floor. “The next one will be better.”

If Bokuto’s not careful, soon it’ll be him and Akaashi struggling to help Kuroo off the floor from laughing so hard.

-

Once Kuroo’s stopped laughing, Bokuto’s righted and dusted himself off, and Akaashi’s greeted his boyfriend with a quick peck on the mouth, Kuroo extends his hands in a shake. “Akaashi.”

“Kuroo,” Akaashi clips back in an equally curt voice. He takes Kuroo’s hand and grips it as hard as Kuroo expected, no longer underestimating this weapon of mass sexual seduction.

“I’ll be setting today. Bokuto-san wants to practice a new spike, but practice is pointless without a blocker,” Akaashi says, which doesn’t really come as a shocker to Kuroo, given that Akaashi’s a setter and all. Bokuto, on the other hand, looks completely shocked until Akaashi kisses his open jaw shut and reminds him they agreed to have a date today.

 _Date_.

Of course. Not like Kuroo expected anything differently once he saw Akaashi, in all honestly. If Kenma wasn’t so lazy about practice or ran away every time Bokuto demanded more time to perfect his moves, he might have done the same. If he and Kenma were together, that is. Not that they were. (Unfortunately.)

Kuroo rubs his hands together as he thinks about it. To anybody else, it might look like he's scheming something against the two lovebirds, but internally Kuroo’s trying to figure out how to cope with feeling like a third wheel for the first time in his life.

-

Kuroo’s sure to shoot Kenma a quick message before the little skirmish. He’s used to blocking for Bokuto, but he’s not used to Akaashi setting for Bokuto, and if Kuroo’s honest, he’s interested to see how Kenma reacts, as a long-time setter for Bokuto.

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 7:38 AM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** HE’S AROUND ALL THE TIME  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** not even volleyball is safe anymore  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** is nothing sacred??  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Need reinforcements?  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Is he setting?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** yeah. feels weird without you  :/  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** good for now. will update on status.  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Keiji has a lot of extra energy………  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Theyre a good match  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Have fun!  
  


Kuroo smiles at the rare exclamation mark in Kenma’s text, but his happiness only lasts a fleeting moment. The second he looks up, he sees Bokuto and Akaashi measuring the size of their hands and threading their fingers together in that sickeningly sweet way only couples do.

“Guys? We’re in public,” Kuroo reminds.

Bokuto pulls away with a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know but Akaashi is _soooo_ cute!”

“You’re the cute one,” Akaashi modestly offers, a light blush dusting his cheekbones.

Kuroo fake gags loud for them to hear, but it’s all for show. Before making his way to the other side of the court, Bokuto slaps his back so hard he can’t keep up the silly gesture while Akaashi smiles at him from the other side of the net. Kuroo only hates how perfect the two of them look side-by-side on the same side of the net.

-

Surprisingly -- or not, if you happened to be Bokuto’s super best friend in the entire world -- Bokuto misses the second ball Akaashi sets.

“What are you reaching for, bro?” Kuroo taunts, knowing well enough that the distraction from Bokuto’s miserable spike will keep him out of his head and motivate him twice as hard to make the next spike land.

As usual for when his dejected mode threatens to surface, Bokuto’s face is completely red, pressed in on itself, and his voice is a raspy holler. While his mood isn’t anything new, Kuroo hasn’t seen that face since their second year of high school, when Bokuto failed to connect with Kenma’s sets. “My foot just slipped! I’ll get the next one!”

“Sure,” Kuroo agrees back, unable to hold back a few snickers. As for Akaashi, face red with embarrassment and shock, he looks between the two with knitted eyebrows. No doubt he’s wondering what went wrong with his set and what he can do to fix the situation. Kuroo smirks, knowing that no matter how good Akaashi’s sets are, Kuroo’s the one best at managing Bokuto’s moods on a court.

-

“All yours,” Akaashi calls out to Bokuto, not that it could be anybody else’s ball. Bokuto reaches out and spikes it, though his hand hits off-center, and the spike overall is weaker than usual, especially now that Bokuto’s reaching his prime and can break furniture by a rebound spike alone.

Akaashi’s spikes are good. Perfect for Bokuto, even. But Bokuto’s not used to them, Kuroo quickly realizes, adapting his strategy to suit the off chance that Akaashi’s set connect with Bokuto’s spike.

“This suuuuuckssssss!!” Bokuto roars out loud enough to capture the attention of the other two courts sharing the gym space. At eight in the morning, it’s not a lot of people, but Kuroo -- and Akaashi, it seems -- are embarrassed by the attention suddenly fixed on them. “C’mon, Akaashi, give me something I can _hit!_ ”

“I’ll do my best,” Akaashi promises, voice slightly weary, and that’s when Kuroo sees an opportunity. Kuroo doesn’t play dirty, but ruffling the feathers of his opponents never hurts and he’s not stupid enough to underestimate Bokuto. As a sole blocker, he needs to use everything at his disposal.

“Whaaat?” Kuroo drawls out, now fixed on Bokuto. “I thought you were good at hitting that, bro?”

Bokuto’s face flushes entirely and he points to Kuroo in challenge. “Oh, it’s _on_.”

-

What Kuroo doesn’t count on is Akaashi turning the table on him.

“Two-on-two would be more exciting with Kozume-san setting for you,” Akaashi says, all too casually while setting to Bokuto. Kuroo loses his footing while thinking about Kenma at his side, leaping up to help Kuroo defend against Bokuto’s spike. This time Kuroo is the one who misses miserably. Bokuto lets out a hoot.

-

“Too bad for you, Kenma wouldn’t play,” Kuroo says, whistling at the end while shutting down the next of Bokuto’s spikes.

“He wouldn’t,” Bokuto agrees with an angry cluck of his tongue. He’s bent over, leaning over so his palms rest on his knees. So far he’s missed over six tosses from Akaashi, and the ones he manages to hit are so weak that not even Kuroo thinks they’re competition. “He’d barely stay for practice.”

“Kozume-san has other ways to motivate Kuroo,” Akaashi says, vaguely, before running toward the wall to retrieve the ball that Kuroo shut down.

-

When he counts the tenth missed spike, Kuroo starts to feel  _a little bit_ sorry for Bokuto. It’s a record, since even with Kenma, Bokuto only missed five balls before he synchronized like a nerve ending adapting to the brain’s signal. Bokuto didn’t understand the metaphor, but then again, he didn’t understand Nekoma’s rallying mantra before games either.

“Don’t mind, don’t mind,” Kuroo reassures, but Bokuto’s shoulders are already beginning to tense and sag into a hunch. His lips are locked into an unyielding frown, and all the spirit he had been radiating earlier is nowhere to be seen. This is bad.

Worse than bad.

When they were in high school, Bokuto would be benched when he started to show signs of a mood swing, Bokuto too restless to get a good spike in and Kenma too cautious to give Bokuto a missed opportunity. Maybe that’s why Bokuto never broke into the top three wing spikers in the nation, though Kuroo will defend Kenma’s strategies to his final days.

As a blocker against the two, however, Kuroo is feeling pretty confident. Bokuto is the only spiker and there’s not a spike of Bokuto’s that Kuroo can’t kill when his mood is down. Akaashi can’t handle Bokuto’s moods, or that’s what Kuroo thinks, even as Bokuto connects with one of Akaashi’s sets. Kuroo calmly shuts it down with a smirk and a cheer, too arrogant to notice the way Akaashi’s eyes are focused on him. Thinking it easier and quicker for the next set up to toss the ball back, Kuroo softblocks the hit instead of killing it.

As Kuroo anticipated, Akaashi receives it, but he sets the ball haphazardly and swiftly, as though it was a play in a real match. Bokuto immediately perks up, eyes trained on nothing but the ball and instincts kicking in, and that’s when Kuroo realizes he’s fucked up. The final kick of motivation happens when Akaashi calls out, “your spike was strong enough to remain in play!”

Personally, Kuroo’s fantasies are filled with Kenma making disapproving faces at him more than Kenma singing his praises, but it only takes three minutes after meeting Bokuto to learn he has one hell of a praise kink.

Letting out a mighty roar as he bows into a perfect arch, Bokuto leaps and slams the volleyball down so hard that it pushes Kuroo’s arm into a windmill stretch when it connects.

Bokuto’s heels hit the floor as the ball squishes in half on the court behind Kuroo and proceeds to bounce hard enough to chip at the wall it bounces off of. Kuroo’s silent, spinning around to find the ball, find the crack, find Akaashi spreading his fisted hands in an open embrace, find Bokuto running straight toward Akaashi while screaming out his lungs and crashing into Akaashi like he belongs there.

-

As Kuroo watches them, he knows. He can recall every time he’s done the same with Kenma, charging straight at him and barreling into a hug. He recalls how Kenma would be completely engulfed, much shorter than Kuroo, and his toes would lift off the court whenever Kuroo wrapped his arms around his waist. There are pictures to prove Kuroo has done it, pictures from practice, from practice matches, from matches that didn’t matter, and from matches at Nationals. But there isn’t a single picture of Kuroo lifting up Kenma like Bokuto does with Akaashi now, spinning Kenma around in the way Kuroo has always fantasized about. There isn’t a single picture of Kuroo letting Kenma’s tiptoes touch the ground, as Akaashi’s were now, no picture of Kuroo pulling Kenma in for a kiss to celebrate their love and a tactic well played, as Bokuto does now. Kuroo’s stomach twists.

-

Despite Bokuto’s earlier lackluster performance, that one spike resolves his mood and captures the attention of nearby players. A few excellent spikes later, three other guys offer to practice with them, drawn by the allure of Bokuto’s loud yelling and his spikes’ equally loud crescendos whenever they hit the floor. Hell, even Kuroo can admit the sound a volleyball made when it hit the floor from one of Bokuto’s spikes is sometimes more impressive than the spikes themselves.

Before getting in a word sideways, Kuroo is squeezed onto Bokuto and Akaashi’s side of the net with three strangers standing off against them. Bokuto smiles broadly at him, the same expression he flashed throughout all of high school and now before all their university matches. Akaashi’s face however, is stone cold, as expressionless as Kuroo’s, the expression he preferred to show when facing off against new opponents or working with players he didn’t have experience with before.

“You have to trust me,” Akaashi says as he makes his way to the serving line.

“Trust me, I don’t,” Kuroo promises in a sing-song voice, but he still leaps up when Akaashi sets to him, earning a quick against the rival team. Bokuto whines that the first point should have spotlighted him, but Kuroo and Akaashi slap hands.

-

“Okay, that’s enough. Off, off, you two,” Kuroo says once he notices the guys across the net getting uncomfortable. Kuroo was uncomfortable after three seconds of full-on kissing action, but he hoped they’d realize how the gym was not the time or place to start making out themselves. Kuroo’s not surprised Bokuto doesn’t have any public decency, but he expected better from Akaashi.

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi mutters. Kuroo can’t really tell what Akaashi’s expression is like because he’s looking away and covering the bottom half of his face with a hand, but that’s fine with Kuroo since he’s already near his daily limit of obscene-faces-Akaashi-makes-when-looking-at-Bokuto. Kuroo hates Akaashi because the modest gesture makes him look twice as lewd.

“Yeah, sorry.” Bokuto’s cheeks are flushed, eyes dazed, lips red, smile relaxed, and voice soft.

Kuroo ruffles his hair until Bokuto squawks and tries to bat Kuroo away. “No, you’re not. Now come on, we have a game to win.”

-

Kuroo’s not surprised they win. Even against a coordinated team, he and Bokuto are unbeatable. Kenma is lazy, but he’s observant, makes wise split-second decisions, and hates to lose. Kuroo always lauded Kenma’s skills as a setter, and despite how he’d run away from Bokuto’s extra practice or complained about Bokuto and Lev being too loud, they always won by a decent margin. The only difference between Kenma and Akaashi as a setter is that Akaashi is as absolutely brutal with his sets as Bokuto is with his spikes; they win by over a ten-point shut out.

-

“Akaashi, you were so sexy when you tossed that final ball to me. I felt so strong hitting it, like my arm was invincible!” Bokuto says, in his deep voice, the one he uses to charm people who aren’t into him. Kuroo’s used to hearing Bokuto use that voice in bars, not communal gym showers.

Kuroo tries not to notice Akaashi skittering away from Bokuto’s wandering hands as he washes beneath his armpits, but it’s hard not to notice when Akaashi’s voice is just as silky and thick with want. “You were the magnificent one. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you.”

“Really? You think I’m magnificent?” Kuroo makes the mistake of taking one look at Bokuto, and it’s hard to tell if it’s Bokuto big head, the hot water, or the way his smoldering gaze drags up and down Akaashi’s body that makes it steamy in the showers. “I think you’re magnificent too, Akaashi! Your tosses were so good, they made me really feel it. I can’t spike anybody else’s ball ever again!”

Kuroo’s starting to suspect that Akaashi isn’t actually wandering away but actually wiggling his hips to entice Bokuto to chase him more. “Please do your best to spike your team’s balls until I can join you.”

“You’ll set for me? So we can play like this every day?”

Kuroo sighs, knowing well enough what happens to Bokuto’s ego when praised, even if Akaashi doesn’t know. -- Or, shit, maybe Akaashi _does_ know. Hell, how could Akaashi not, after that match? Bokuto looked like he was about to bust a nut right in the middle of the court when Akaashi reverently said, “that was the most beautiful spike I’ve ever seen.”

Kuroo closes his eyes and scrubs as hard as he can against his scalp and ears to drain out the sound of Bokuto and Akaashi’s flirting. He doesn’t look at them either, knowing they’re bumping hips and sharing the same shower nozzle’s spray. He concentrates on washing the shampoo out of his hair and convincing himself those are the sighs from the showerhead.

-

What’s harder to ignore is Akaashi’s advances on Bokuto in the lockers. Eyes trained on the locker he rented earlier, Kuroo pretends not to hear when Akaashi’s hand lands on Bokuto’s bare ass. He knows it’s Akaashi’s hand on Bokuto and not Bokuto’s hand on Akaashi because the whipping sound of skin-on-skin sounds the same way it does when Kuroo whips his towel against Bokuto’s bare ass after a good match. Well, that and the way Bokuto pipes up, “hey, my ass is sensitive!”

Kuroo does his best to forget how Akaashi says, “I know,” but it doesn’t quite work.

Kuroo immediately reaches a death grip on his phone and does his best to restrain a crying sound.

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 9:22 AM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** SAVE ME.  
  


He breathes in and out of his nostrils and focuses on his breathing while he changes. He pulls fresh clothes over his body one-by-one as he hears quick claps of skin-on-skin, Bokuto and Akaashi probably trying to touch and fending off each other, grappling for a hold in some middle ground that both can agree on. Kuroo imagines it all out while slipping on a loose shirt and warm socks, something comfortable for lazing around after their active morning.

“Ready to go, bro?” Kuroo asks, carefully turning around to avoid the expected but unwanted view of Bokuto’s mouth half attached to Akaashi’s face and Akaashi’s hand slipping below the elastic of Bokuto’s fresh underwear. Kuroo wouldn’t be so jealous if it wasn’t a fantasy involving a certain pudding head that he’d jerked off to since middle school.

“Uhhhhh, gimme a sec,” Bokuto mumbles, before Akaashi’s mouth completely seals over his own.

-

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 9:22 AM  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Volleyball didnt go well?  
  
**Today** 9:27 AM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** it was perfect  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Then what do you need saving from?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** they’re making out in the lockers right now  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** i need a distraction  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Ive been playing the new persona all morning  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** PERFECT pls tell me everything in excruciating detail  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Lol  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** I have a lot of opinions so far  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** tell me all of them  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Ok  :)   
  


-

With the exception of the awesome jog with Bokuto and the general feeling of playing volleyball with good teammates and strong opponents, the eleven minutes, thirty-five seconds, and twelve miliseconds he spends texting Kenma outside the locker rooms are his favorite part of the day. While Kenma’s describing the romance route he’s persuing and why it’s his favorite relationship in the game, Bokuto and Akaashi emerge, still radiating humid heat and foreheads pressed together like a pair of owls, hand in hand. Kuroo tries not to scoff -- keyword: _tries_ \-- as he grabs the crook of Bokuto’s shoulder. “So we’ll see you tomorrow, Akaashi?”

“We’re, um,” Bokuto begins, but lamely trails off, unable to meet Kuroo’s face. It says everything Kuroo needs to know.

“Bokuto-san is coming over to meet my parents for lunch,” Akaashi explains briefly. Whether they planned this all along or for how long they planned this is unnecessary to Kuroo. He gets it. Bokuto wants to be with Akaashi and that means some situations are beyond their rad bromance. Logically, he gets it. Emotionally, it still hurts.

“Oh,” Kuroo says, just as lamely as Bokuto trailed off. “Um, so… Should I expect you tonight?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto assures. He smiles and Kuroo believes him. Akaashi smiles back but tugs Bokuto toward the east exit of the gym, away from the west exist leading to Kuroo and Bokuto’s apartment. “Catch you later!”

Kuroo waves after them, but Bokuto doesn’t, his hand firmly holding onto Akaashi’s. Akaashi neither sneers nor grimaces at Kuroo; he gives a cordial bow of his head, which Kuroo returns. Kuroo almost wishes Akaashi had been a dick about it. At least that way Kuroo would have a reason for feeling so crummy.

-

Kuroo takes a long walk. He gets lunch by himself five miles away. He walks the six miles home and collapses face-first on the couch. For the first time, he recognizes a crusty stain that smells like one of Bokuto’s stiff socks Kuroo found in his first-year locker, when Kuroo told him better ways to jack off. He turns his cheeks to face the opposite way, groaning a dramatic, _“ewww,”_ at nothing in particular when his cheek grazes a stiff stain that smells nothing like Bokuto’s spunk.

-

Kuroo zones out watching Hole in the Wall reruns and deciding this one-bedroom apartment feels too empty without Bokuto in it. He texts Kenma because Kenma’s the only one he can rely on and not because he gets little flutters in his chest every time Kenma shoots him a message.

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 1:12 PM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** the cat has left the nest. wanna hang out tonight?  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Cant. Busy.  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Nekomas 3rd years showed up at my dorm while I was in the shower  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** sounds like fun  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Please come and pick up your son. Hes driving me nuts.  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** thought we agreed lev is bokuto’s son  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Please come and pick up Bokutos son. Hes driving me nuts.  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** i would but i’m too busy watching trashy tv  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** give them my love  :*  
  


Kuroo grins down at his phone, where he’s cradling it on his lap, and bites his bottom lip. Their texting is easy, just as it’s always been, and no different from how they would talk in person. Kuroo teases and flirts and smirks with Kenma like it’s nothing, just like always, but it doesn’t feel the same.

He can’t stop thinking about the way Bokuto and Akaashi smiled at each other earlier, and now texts don’t feel like enough. He wants to see Kenma, wants to hold him, wants to do a lot more than that, if he’s honest with himself. He tries to convince himself this is enough.

His phone buzzes again.

Kitty Kat   
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** You are the worst  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** i’m so hurt  </3  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Told them you say hi  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** attached: HiKurooSenpai.mp4  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Btw they forced me  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** u bring a tear to my eye. i feel so loved  ;’(  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Miss you too, kuroo kat  <3  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** That was lev  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** :*  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** i know it was secretly you all along  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** -_-  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** I miss you when i’m surrounded by these loudmouths  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** <3   
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** <3!!!!!  
  


-

“I’m _so_ sore!” Bokuto whines, flopping into his bunk, close to midnight. Kuroo has been pretending to be asleep for two hours already.

Kuroo pulls his covers up to his eyes and scoffs. “I don’t want to hear what kind of wild sex you and _Akaashi_ had today.”

“What the hell?” Bokuto’s face appears over the edge of the bunk, his frown looking upside down. His golden eyes are sharp, and only in that way that he only looks at rival teams when they’ve said something to besmirch Nekoma’s or their university’s good name.

Kuroo wants to not laugh, he really, seriously, very much really does. But Bokuto looks so ridiculous and serious like that, he can’t help it. The mood seems to diffuse, enough that he admits, “I just mean you two are having sex all the time and you’re such a braggart about it!”

Bokuto, unsurprisingly, immediately protests. Before his blush can be too thick, he rolls back into his bunk, his spine making waves in his mattress that Kuroo sees from below. “Not all the time! That’s not cool, bro, judging me like that. Akaashi’s actually pretty modest. He says I can’t even talk about touching his butt when you’re around even though you and me are always talking about boners.”

His friend rolls back and forth his bunk as though he’s trying to find a comfortable position, making more huffy sounds. Kuroo’s about to drift to sleep when Bokuto says, “I’m just sore because our season hasn’t started up and it was really cool playing with you again, you know? You worked me out, dude.”

“Same,” Kuroo admits, smiling lazily as he falls asleep.


	4. Day three

At eight in the morning, Kuroo wakes up to the sound of owls screeching. Or what he thinks sounds like owls screeching. In actuality, it turns out to be a stupid couple. Kuroo doesn’t know how or why Akaashi is in his apartment this early, but with their screeching this early in the morning, he curses the decision to ever hold a housewarming party.

“No, no, _no!_ You’re wrong!” he hears Bokuto bellow, and Kuroo smiles nervously in his bunk. Bokuto sounds mad, but he usually cools off quickly. It’ll be fine, right? From the sound of it, Bokuto is right outside the bedroom door, and if not for Kuroo’s thighs pressing together in his need to alleviate his feline bladder, Kuroo wouldn’t wouldn’t really care about that. Now that he’s up, Little Tetsu is up too.

“Bokuto-san. I love and support you with all my heart, but what you’re saying is completely ridiculous,” he hears Akaashi insist. From his tone, it doesn’t even sound like flirting for once. It destroys Kuroo’s hope of their fight quickly ending. “I cannot accept this!”

“Why can’t you understand me!” Bokuto shrieks, loud enough that Kuroo is surprised the glass from their tiny bedroom’s window doesn’t vibrate or shatter. Honestly, the neighbors heard _that_ , and he’s already trying to devise a plan of how to explain this one to the neighbors. “You don’t get it! You don’t get _me!_ ”

“No, it’s you who is being completely unreasonable!” Akaashi screeches back, and Kuroo didn’t even know Akaashi could speak that loud. He squirms uncomfortably in bed, both from his need to pee, his reluctance to pass the two, and the sheer knowledge that the best bro in the world is doing the very thing he was worried about: arguing in a fight-to-the-death rhetorical duel with his super smart boyfriend. Discourse never was Bokuto’s strong suit. “How do you not understand this!? This is so basic that even a child could understand! Is that what you’re telling me: that you are a baby who can’t comprehend?”

“I’m not a baby! And you sound stupid,” Bokuto concludes in his defiant, childish voice, and Kuroo is glad Bokuto can’t see him because he literally smacks one of his palms against his forehead as Bokuto continues to maturely taunt his boyfriend. “Stuuuu _piiiid_.”

If Kuroo could go back in time to completely support Akaashi and ensure this argument never takes place, he would. As it is, he only hears a scandalized gasp from Akaashi and that’s when Kuroo knows it’s over.

By now the urge to pee overwhelms Kuroo, but he would much rather suffer than dare to take a step out and risk interfering in this lover’s dispute. Kuroo clings to his sheets, hoping for the best, but only hears a slammed door. He hears Bokuto sniffle, moments later, and feels his stomach sink. Worst of all, Kuroo feels a little pee slip past him, and that’s when he decides to risk it and rush to the bathroom. He wishes his reason for daring to enter No Man’s Land was merely out of the goodness of his heart, but he’s shameless in blurting out, “I love you, bro, but I’m peeing a little bit as we speak,” as he slammed the door on Bokuto’s lost expression and wide, teary eyes.

Safe in the toilet, Kuroo exhales. _Finally_.

-

Or not.

Not two minutes into Kuroo’s unfortunately long pee, he hears the sound of the front door slamming wide open again, and he begins to whistle in the hopes it sounds like he’s enjoying his morning piss and not that he wants to avoid a couple’s meltdown.

“…I can forgive you,” Akaashi voice says, sternly but forgivingly.

“I… I think I can too? I’m not really sure, but I want to,” Kuroo hears Bokuto admit. Kuroo frowns because not even _Kenma_ forgives him that fast. It takes at least three text messages before Kenma begins to entertain the thought of forgiving.

“I’m sorry I acted that way,” Akaashi says beyond the door, and Kuroo strategically wipes and flushes the toilet when he hears the wet and moaning sounds of Bokuto and Akaashi “forgiving” each other. Honestly? As Kuroo washes his hands, he hopes they never have an argument ever again if it means avoiding _that_ sound for the rest of his life. Maybe it would sound more enticing if he imagined himself and Kenma making those sounds, but the fact of the matter is that it isn’t him and Kenma and therefore it’s gross -- as the kids say it -- A-F.

Quickly wiping his hands on his and Bokuto’s unwashed, shared towel, Kuroo dashes back into the bedroom, desperately trying to ignore how their tongues fight for dominance.

-

The honeymoon, as it turns out, is short lived. All is quiet until Bokuto asks what duck dicks look like. He laughs at Akaashi’s simple explanation that they look like corkscrews, and then all hell breaks loose. Again.

Kuroo never thought he would -- and never wanted to, for that matter -- live through a whole hour where every other word is “dick” or “duck,” but life just isn’t fair sometimes. The duck dicks quickly derail back into their earlier argument, which escalates to Bokuto somehow interpreting that Akaashi thinks his kneepads look dumb, and Kuroo hopes the sweet embrace of death is soon. Not _too_ soon, since he still has a few items on his bucket list that involve Kenma, but _soon_.

Laying in bed with his eyes peeled open and listening to Bokuto and Akaashi propose arguments about why each other is wrong (which, Kuroo can’t deny, _is_ juicy if only to hear Akaashi say in all seriousness and sincerity, “I’m sorry, but I don’t care _how_ many talking chinchillas you ask, you’re still wrong,”), Kuroo finally breaks down and texts Kenma.

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 9:13 AM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** sos!!!  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** What now?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** they’re fighting  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** they made up but then they started fighting again??  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** About what?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** idk!!!!  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** duck dicks, i think???  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** what do i do?????  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** No matter what dont pick a side  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** That always leads to bad route  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** ok  ;’(  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** no promises tho  :*  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Tetsurou.  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** OK I WON’T  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Good  :/  
  


Kuroo sighs and listens to Bokuto try to reason himself out of the hole he dug himself into, but it doesn’t make the pill of Kenma’s sage advice any easier to swallow, especially since Akaashi is _very_ compelling in arguing that the replicants in Blade Runner would 126% be on his side and not Bokuto’s.

-

After 15 minutes and one rebuttal that the replicants are as fake as Akaashi’s lies, Kuroo receives another text:

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 9:29 AM  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Is Koutarou losing  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** ngl i think he is  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** I figured but still  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** same  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** :((  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Hang in there  
  


When Kenma texts him like this, Kuroo thinks he can survive the beginning of world war three brewing in his living room, even though Bokuto’s whining and Akaashi’s displeased sighs tell him he can’t. Kuroo pulls his pillows over his ears, which is probably the very same thing Akaashi’s doing with his hands now that Bokuto’s trilling out a series of, “no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” at the top of his lungs.

-

To his deep regret, Kuroo blames his poor, kitty bladder and whoever recommended drinking eight glasses of water a day on having to pee again. He squirms in his bunk, frowning, listening all the while as Bokuto threatens to throw what is definitely their ping pong table. Kuroo would have burst out and objected if not for the fact Akaashi chides, “Bokuto-san. What gremlins would hypothetically think or not think has nothing to do with this,” and the subsequent sound of Bokuto lowering the table to the carpet with a quiet, “oh. You’re right. About that, I mean. Not the other thing.”

Still.

Kuroo can’t deny his bladder any more. Kuroo makes sure to sneak out during a long speech, and he catches snippets of Bokuto ranting that duck feathers and owl feathers weigh completely the same and something about rocks. Not that Kuroo is keeping tabs, because that definitely wouldn’t be cool from bro-to-bro and Kuroo wouldn’t ever do that to Bokuto, but the score is Akaashi to Bokuto 7-2.

Kuroo manages to slip into the bathroom undetected, but karma bites him in the ass the second he leaves the bathroom. Damn it, he knew he shouldn’t keep a tally of who was winning! Kuroo’s shoulders arch when he’s caught and he tries his best to smile, but it’s a grimace uglier than one of Kenma’s. His back is still turned to Bokuto and Akaashi, and that’s the only way he remains sane.

“What do you think, Kuroo?” Akaashi asks pointedly. Kuroo doesn’t turn around to look at him, but he can already imagine Akaashi with his arms crossed and lips set in a stony glare. “You have been listening in, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, _Tetsu_ , which is it?” Bokuto counters, and Kuroo internally hisses. Bokuto’s tone is already pressuring him to take his side, and the rare use of his first name only makes him feel more obligated. He absolutely would not be able to betray Bokuto if he turned around and saw Bokuto’s face crumpled in on itself like it always is when Bokuto’s about to throw a fit.

Against better judgement, Kuroo slowly turns around and searches from face-to-face. Akaashi’s expression is as unrelenting as Bokuto’s, and neither looks like they’ll be the first to give in. Kuroo’s logical and emotional loyalties are divided, and, torn, Kuroo astutely tries to decide his fate.

“You agree with me, don’t you?” Akaashi prompts. He raises a brow in a way that makes Kuroo more scared than when his own mother disciplined him after discovering daddy’s special ice cream was missing.

Bokuto’s glare, however, is fiercer than anything Kuroo seen before, and he stares down Kuroo with more intensity than he has at any opponent in a national match. Bokuto expects bro solidarity, something that Kuroo could never deny him. “Well do you? _Bro?_ ”

“I think,” Kuroo begins, shifting his attention from one to the other, unable to decide where to stake his loyalties, “I have to pee again.”

-

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 10:08 AM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** help they got me cornered  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Where??  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** in the bathroom  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** i can’t leave or they’ll ask me to pick a side again  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Dont do it  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** best advice thank you kenma  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Do i still get all your video games if you die?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** no, i’m willing them all to bokuto now just for that  :((  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Damn  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Guess you better live so koutarou can’t have them  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** is that your way of saying you want me to live?? aww i’m touched  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** It would be pretty boring without you around  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** <3  
  


-

Between his two bathroom trips, Kuroo realizes that there’s no escaping taking a side. Just because he lives in the same space as Bokuto and happens to be best friends with one of the arguing people shouldn’t mean he has to involve himself. He sits on the closed toilet seat, face in his hands and unable to pee in peace with the arguing outside, before he decides to emerge (after a strategical flush and wash of his hands).

The fighting has escalated to angrily singing their arguments, apparently, as Kuroo opens the bathroom door. Bokuto belts out a nonsense verse only to watch, slack jawed, when Akaashi makes direct eye contact with Bokuto and sings in rebuttal, “I guess I just lost my boyfriend, I don’t where he went.”

The odds aren’t in Kuroo’s favor, as it turns out, as Bokuto boldly fires back, “It’s like Raaaaaaaiiiiannnnnnnn! On your wedding daaaaay! It’s the freeeee riiiiiiiiiide! When you’re already theeeeeere!! It’s the gooood adviiiii--”

Bokuto doesn’t even finish the chorus before Akaashi bursts out, “that’s not even what ‘ironic’ means!”

“Yes, it is! It’s in a song! It can’t be wrong!” Bokuto fights back. Kuroo clasps his palms over his ears to block out their fighting, awful singing voices, and Bokuto’s pathetic attempt at explaining irony.

Knowing what Akaashi’s tactic will be, Kuroo lets Akaashi say, “everybody knows that’s the wrong translation!” Akaashi shouts out at the same time Bokuto insists, “Alanis wouldn’t lie to me!”

Kuroo tries to make a run for the bedroom just as both Akaashi and Bokuto turn eyes to Kuroo and ominously say in unison, _“Kuroo.”_

Without a word, Kuroo makes the final steps to the bedroom and locks the door, pretending he didn’t hear his name.

-

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 10:48 AM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** they’re singing at each other  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Thats sweet  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** no. i mean. they’re SINGING their arguments at each other  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Theyve been fighting for awhile  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** over two hours now  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** kill me  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Knife or gun?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** knife. more painful that way.  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Good choice  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** i knew i could count on you!  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** I always have your back  
  


-

Kuroo wishes pillows were enough to block out Bokuto belting out choruses and Akaashi’s stiff scolding that the songs Bokuto sings don’t mean what Bokuto thinks they mean. He hears them laughing, which only seems scarier, in all honestly, before they start fighting again. This time it’s Bokuto who, deadly serious in tone, breathes in deeply and says, “Akaashi. I may say some ridiculous things, but at least I never said that JT’s peak was with N*Sync.”

Their voices reach a crescendo while arguing about whose side their hypothetical children and cat would take, and Akaashi lets out a scandalized gasp when Bokuto says their future dog thinks Akaashi drinks too much wine after coming home from work. Kuroo groans, rolling on is mattress like a restless child, and picks up his phone. He cracks the door just wide enough to poke his phone’s camera through and snap a shot. Kuroo should be an artist -- or part of the paparazzi -- he decides while laughing to himself how Bokuto’s arms are blurred from gesturing wildly and Akaashi looks like he’s about to pop a vein. He sends it to Kenma.

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 11:03 AM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** attached: awwww.jpg  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** couple’s first fight! our babies are growing up!  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Are they okay?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** they’ll be fine  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Good  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Why is keiji chugging out of a bottle of wine if theyre fighting?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** bokuto said willy wonka was named after his dick when akaashi brought up oompa loompas  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** To be fair koutarou still thinks moby dick is the name of a porno  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Poor keiji  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** he’s officially wine mom  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Morisuke will fight him for the title  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** my money’s on akaashi  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** I can see it  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Koutarou is worse than lev so theres that  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** don’t tell our little lion man that!  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Too much effort to tell him anyway  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** Awwww you’re so adorable  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Im not  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** you are  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Am not  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** are too  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Am not  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** are too  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Am not  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** :*  
  
**Today** 11:11 AM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** are too  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Am not  
  


-

At noon, Kuroo’s stomach grumbles out a loud reminder that it exists and is empty, and Kuroo sighs, knowing what he must do but dreading it all the same.

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 12:02 PM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** mission impossible: make lunch while the couple is still fighting  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Dont die  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** thanks i’ll try not to  
  


Sucking in his breath and holding it, Kuroo dares to emerge. Akaashi’s half-empty wine bottle is on the table, and both Bokuto and Akaashi are red in the face, mouths open as if to speak, but both halt at the sight of Kuroo. Kuroo resists the urge to squirm or crack an inappropriate joke. Instead, he puts on his best captain face and looks them up-and-down one at a time. “Are you two done yet?”

“I, uh,” Bokuto stammers out immediately and, seemingly, accidentally. He looks at Akaashi’s wide, shocked eyes and smiles meekly after Akaashi’s nods at him seriously. “Yeah. Sorry about that… We were sorta loud, huh?”

“Very,” Kuroo says bluntly, stealing Akaashi’s bottle of wine on the way to the kitchen. He needs a drink more than Akaashi after all that, he reasons, and -- damn it, Kuroo is a grown ass man who had to put up with four hours of non-stop bickering and fighting the urge to pee, so he deserves some God damn cookies.

He doesn’t look back, but he feels the air around him deflate. Bokuto’s tone is lighter when he asks what Kuroo’s making for lunch, Akaashi’s heavy breathing evens out until it’s quiet, and Kuroo can tell even without looking that they’re already making googly eyes at each other again.

“I’ll help you with that, bro,” Bokuto says from behind, his arm sliding over the small of Kuroo’s back. Kuroo lets out a quick breath and Akaashi appears on his other side, pulling out the appropriate dining ware already. They both turn to Kuroo, Bokuto bumping his shoulders against Kuroo with a smirk and Akaashi smiling and whispering a small, “thank you.”

-

Their kitchen is too small for three grown men and a batter of cookie dough, but somehow they manage. Kuroo looks up from where he’s beating more eggs into flour and keeps an eye on Bokuto and Akaashi. The wine’s finally hit Akaashi, making his cheeks flushed and his limbs looser. He practically giggles when Bokuto smears a little bit of leftover cookie batter onto his cheek and licks it clean. Gross and unsanitary, Kuroo has to admit, but actually kind of cute with the way Akaashi squirms away, chirping, “no, don’t!” when Bokuto leans in to nuzzle at Akaashi’s neck. Bokuto smirks at Kuroo like he’s won a prize and simply says, “Akaashi has a ticklish neck.”

“Thanks, I’ll add that to my list of things I neither asked nor wanted to know,” Kuroo says, nodding and taking a swig of the bottle they’re all sharing, and then returns to his batter. Bokuto and Akaashi are less than an arm’s reach away, but it feels like they’re distant with their laughing and flailing of arms. Akaashi keeps pushing Bokuto’s face away as Bokuto tries to peck Akaashi’s neck, and all Kuroo can do is watch.

“Lovesick idiots,” Kuroo mutters under his breath, but he pulls out his phone and snaps a pic. Brows raised, Kuroo lowly whistles at how good it turned out. Bokuto’s face is mostly visible but turned in a way that makes it obvious he was kissing Akaashi’s neck. Akaashi’s eyes are squeezed shut and he’s smiling uncharacteristically widely, a bit of cake batter gleaming on his cheek.

Tucking his phone away, Kuroo’s chest feels tight as he watches Bokuto give up on attacking Akaashi’s neck to curl his hand around his boyfriend’s. Akaashi leans his back against Bokuto’s chest at the same time he reminds Bokuto, “no biting or roughhousing in the kitchen,” Bokuto’s chin already hooked over Akaashi’s shoulder. Kuroo’s chest only gets tighter as he shakes his head at them. Not twenty minutes ago, they were glaring daggers at each other, and now they’re practically necking in the kitchen. It’s almost suffocating when Akaashi lets Bokuto lick the batter off a finger, and Kuroo forgets to breathe when he imagines himself and Kenma doing the same.

 _“Shit,”_ Kuroo breathes out and immediately reaches for the bottle of wine.

The couple stops fondling each other and looks at Kuroo in concern. “What’s up, bro?”

“I just realized you two actually make a cute couple.”

-

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 2:12 PM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** attached: lovebirds.jpg  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Theyre cuter than I thought theyd be  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** i know, it’s annoying me   
  


-

Brotein Shake   
  
**Today** 2:12 PM  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** attached: lovebirds.jpg  
  
**[From: Brotein Shake]** IM SETTING THIS AS MY PHONE WALLPERPR RIGHNT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** ur welcome  
  
**[From: Brotein Shake]** ty ty ty ty ty this is such a good photo!!!! AKAASHI looks so good!!!!!  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** glad ur happy bro  <3  
  
**[From: Brotein Shake]** <33333 !!!!!!!   
  


-

Bro’s bf from HELL   
  
**Today** 2:12 PM  
**[To: Bro’s bf from HELL]** attached: lovebirds.jpg  
  
**[From: Bro’s bf from HELL]** Thank you for the photo. It looks rather good for a candid, doesn’t it?  
  
**[From: Bro’s bf from HELL]** I’ve been meaning to change my background image to one of Bokuto-san. I’ll use this one.  
  
**[To: Bro’s bf from HELL]** ok like for real are you a psychic?????  
  
**[From: Bro’s bf from HELL]** I don’t understand? What do you mean?  
  
**[To: Bro’s bf from HELL]** nvm go drink your wine  
  


-

“So, um,” Kuroo tries as casually as possible while fitting the racks of batter in the oven, “what were you two arguing about earlier?”

Akaashi’s face assumes a sinister glare while Bokuto frowns as though he’s about to go into dejected mode. From their looks alone, Kuroo would take back his question, but there’s no turning back now.

“We agreed to wake up early and walk to the station together for a breakfast date when Bokuto-san said a pound of bricks was heavier than a pound of feathers,” Akaashi says seriously. Kuroo scoffs out a laugh.

“No, _seriously_ , what were you arguing about?” Kuroo asks again, but neither Bokuto nor Akaashi quirk a smile. Obviously, this is a serious matter and not, as Kuroo presumed, a joke.

“I take it you agree with me, Kuroo-san?”

Kuroo, for lack of a better response, eloquently responds, _“uhhhhhhhh.”_

He looks to Bokuto for guidance, who only mouths the words, _“breast milk ice cream,”_  just outside of Akaashi’s view. Bro Code, he reminds himself.

Shifting his gaze to Akaashi, Kuroo recognizes the pleading in his eyes that begs to prove Bokuto’s nonsense erroneous. Kuroo gets that. Honestly, he does. He could be as silly as his bro, but even Kuroo had his limits, especially when it came to the actual laws of physics.

Kuroo fixes his gaze on Bokuto again, his best bro, and then on Akaashi, the voice of logic, and again on Bokuto. There’s only one answer to this ridiculous fight between the two, and thus Kuroo says, “I have to go to the bathroom again,” and runs away from the discourse.

-

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 7:41 PM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** i take it back  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** they’re both idiots  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** i can’t even rn  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** What were they fighting about  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** if a pound of rocks or a pound of feathers was heavier  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Obviously the rocks  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** DON’T YOU DARE  
  


-

“…Okay, bro. Seriously, what’s up? You’ve been glaring at me for the past ten minutes.” If not for the fact Kuroo knew Bokuto would be up all night pouting if Kuroo didn’t ask, he might not have even bothered, but Kuroo was worn out from Bokuto and Akaashi’s ridiculous fight earlier, and he didn’t want to sleep with any more unresolved misunderstandings. Kuroo makes a silly face and Bokuto blinks, obviously roused from whatever thought was too big and difficult for his brain.

“I mean, it just doesn’t make any sense. Feathers are light. They don’t really weigh like anything,” Bokuto says with a frown more innocent and tender than a child’s.

Kuroo wants to bang his head against the wall. Or maybe bang Bokuto’s head against the wall. “Oh my god, are you seriously still on this?”

“Listen! Just hear me out. A pound of bricks is heavy, right? But a pound of feathers--”

“Is still a pound,” Kuroo finishes.

Bokuto looks away and frowns so hard that his bottom lip juts out. “I _knew_ you’d take Akaashi’s side on this,” he grumbles, climbing into his bunk. “You just don’t get it.”

“I’m not the one who can’t understand a pound is a pound,” Kuroo taunts. Bokuto farts loudly once he’s in his bunk and Kuroo yells at him. It makes Bokuto laugh so loud that their neighbors pound on their shared wall. Kuroo’s grinning as he checks his texts for the last time before bed. He has two new messages, one from Kenma that says, “sleep well,” and a kissy emoji, and one from Akaashi that says, “Thank you for agreeing with me. I knew you were a man of logic.” Kuroo changes Akaashi’s contact name to Wine Mom.

-

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 11:12 PM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** i’m glad we don’t fight  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** The star wars prequels were good  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** i swear to god kenma  
  



	5. Day four

Bokuto looks guilty and he’s nervously poking at his cereal with a spoon, neither of which are ever a good sign. Kuroo can only stand five more seconds of watching Bokuto restlessly darting his eyes over Kuroo and frowning at his cereal before Kuroo can’t take it anymore.

“You’re acting weird. Even for you,” Kuroo bluntly says, not bothering to close his mouth as he chews on his crunchy cereal. “Something up?”

Bokuto looks absolutely lost, opening and closing his mouth twice before blurting, “I told Akaashi you’d go on a double date with us.”

Kuroo immediately starts choking, and Bokuto pounds his back in a way that isn’t really helpful and just makes the cereal feel like it’s getting stuck in his throat even more. Eventually Kuroo coughs out a wad of oats like a cat with its furball, and all is well again. Relatively speaking, of course. Kuroo’s voice is raspy and croaking, a few flakes falling out of his mouth when he talks. “Literally what the hell?”

“I know! I know!” Bokuto yells out, already holding his hands up in a defensive gesture as he moves back to his seat, “but Akaashi was really into the idea and I didn’t wanna say no!”

“So you just signed me up to go on a date with you and your boyfriend?” Kuroo asks while wiping his mouth clean with his wrist. “When you know I--”

“Look, dude, _I know,”_ Bokuto says, and this time he sounds more serious than usual. He’s frowning but not in that melodramatic, pouty way of his. It’s a pity frown, the kind of frown Kuroo hates the most. “I know about -- that.”

“Kenma,” Kuroo snaps out in correction.

“Yeah, but…” Bokuto doesn’t finish his sentence, merely shrugging. Kuroo hates to admit, but it’s a pretty accurate description of Kuroo’s love life right now. “You’ve been into him for years but you’ve never made a move, you know? So I thought… I don’t know, I just thought it’d be good for you too.”

“I don’t want to,” Kuroo grumbles, sounding more like Bokuto than he’d care to.

“You don’t _have_ to.” Bokuto shrugs, but it’s softer this time, and when Kuroo looks up, Bokuto’s smiling worriedly. “But it might be good for you.”

Kuroo frowns back. He says nothing, letting his judgmental look do all the talking for him.

“Nobody is saying you have to marry her,” Bokuto points out with a wave of his hand. He’s starting to sound more confident as he adds, “it’s just a little date! Three hours tops. Who knows, you might even have fun.”

“It’s a _date,”_ Kuroo counters. No matter how Bokuto phrased it or played it up, it was and would always be a date.

“But it’s a blind date! So it’s totally okay if you’re not into her,” Bokuto babbles. Kuroo cuts him off.

“Wait, it’s a blind date? So you don’t even know who it is?”

Bokuto shrugs. “Didn’t think to ask. Akaashi just said it’d be fun to do a double date and we’d both bring a friend. So it’s…whoever Akaashi brings, I guess?”

“Then why does it have to be _me?”_

“Because!” Bokuto says immediately, clapping his hands together and bowing his head beneath the humbling gesture. “You’re awesome and hot and fun to hang out with and people like you and--”

“And Yaku said no?”

“And Yaku said no,” Bokuto lamely admits. “Akaashi originally said he wanted to do a double date with you but I also know…you know, with Kenma… So I didn’t want to! But Yaku said he wasn’t interested.”

Kuroo waves Bokuto’s bowing off, but he’s still frowning. He runs a hand through his hair and exhales heavily. “This is… Ugh. You’re such a pain in the ass sometimes.”

 _“Please?_ I’ll even pay for your lunch if you do it!”

“Okay… Okay, okay. I mean, _not_ okay. Seriously, dude, that wasn’t cool at all. But okay. Fine. I’ll do it.” Kuroo lets out a deep breath, as though merely talking takes all his energy. He leans over the table, head cradled in his hands. “So when is this double date?”

Bokuto smiles bashfully and any other time than right now, it might make angels sing and birds coo. “Today?”

“Seriously, bro, I’m going to kill you.”

-

Bokuto tells him they only have an hour before the fated date, which only makes Kuroo want to kill Bokuto even more, but he dutifully picks out an appropriate outfit and even bothers to tame his hair into a neat style. Bokuto’s too busy preparing himself for a date with _Akaashi_ to notice Kuroo’s hair, which is really the only good part of the morning, honestly.

Kuroo looks at himself in their dirty bathroom mirror and sighs. He looks so dumb. He can’t help but feel the guy staring back in the mirror looks like a loser compared to the blinding brightness that is Bokuto. Bokuto’s fretting all over the apartment, humming Akaashi’s name, texting away happily, and messing up his spikey hair, which only makes it look more natural and better. Kuroo looks back at himself and ruffles his hair up a bit, hating how hard it feels with gel in it.

-

One bathroom pep talk to himself later, Kuroo’s standing beside Bokuto outside a mini golf place and doing his best not to turn around and run home. He feels sick and unhappy, hating the way his stomach twists and his gut tells him he’s betraying Kenma.

It’s not like he and Kenma are a thing. Kuroo could get a boyfriend or kiss a girl or even elope in Las Vegas, and Kenma would only be disappointed that Kuroo didn’t tell him earlier. Still, he hasn’t texted Kenma all day, feeling like he can’t face his friend and crush while knowing he’s about to go on a date with somebody else.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto screams and launches himself at said boyfriend. All Kuroo sees of Akaashi are his arms snaking around Bokuto’s back and a surprised, “oomph.”

Kuroo may be in a sour mood, but he smiles at Bokuto’s enthusiasm, glad that at least one of them will have fun. He’s curious to see who Akaashi brought and peeks around the broad expanse of Bokuto’s back.

“Hey, I’m Kur-- Oh.” A familiar pudding head is glaring behind Akaashi, outward looks matching Kuroo’s internal suffering. “Kenma?”

“What are you doing here?” Kenma asks bluntly. His eyes are wider and prettier than usual, or maybe that’s just Kuroo’s mind playing tricks on him. He’s trying to focus but it’s hard when all he can take notice of is how good Kenma looks in clothes that actually fit him and aren’t made for people Kuroo’s size. From the looks of it, Akaashi dressed Kenma, since the button-up, sleek style isn’t really Kenma’s. The color looks good with Kenma’s skin, though, Kuroo notices, and it even brings out the highlight in Kenma’s hair. The black skinny jeans were a good pick too, he muses. They really emphasized Kenma’s--

“Ooooh, you brought Kenma?” Bokuto says as if he just took notice of Kenma. Bokuto hums, looking between the two, and he arches an eyebrow subtly at Kuroo. Kuroo nods back and Bokuto accepts it, wrapping both arms around Akaashi and attention shifted back to his boyfriend. “But you know, Kuroo and Kenma are childhood friends and hang out all the time anyway.”

“Oh. The awkwardness is my fault, then. I thought it would only be fair to invite Kozume-san since Kozume-san first invited me,” Akaashi explains. He’s still talking but Kuroo can’t hear a word he’s saying. It’s like he’s underwater and Akaashi is making noise at the surface. He can hear noises but he can’t understand them. His palms are sweaty. “And Kozume-san said he was interested in--”

“I said I was interested in leaving the house,” Kenma cuts in, face red, lips set in a frown, and voice uncharacteristically strict. “That’s what I said.”

“It’s fine!” Kuroo finds himself saying, a bit too strongly and a bit too suddenly. He doesn’t trust his voice right now, and the sound is surprising even to him. “It’s fine. It’s better than a stranger.”

Bokuto and Akaashi share a blink, but Bokuto shrugs and Akaashi simply moves on as though nothing happened.

“Let’s get tickets, then,” Akaashi suggests, pulling Bokuto toward the ticket counter.

-

“I’m paying for Kozume-san’s ticket,” Akaashi says offhand at the counter. Bokuto perks up and flashes a happy grin.

“Hey, me too! I said I’d pay for Kuroo since I dragged him out,” he says while pulling out his wallet. Kenma watches and barely looks at Kuroo, but Kuroo’s face goes completely hot.

“I’ll buy my own ticket,” Kuroo offers, clearing his throat. “And Kenma’s. It’s not fair to put it all on you two.”

Kuroo hates how Akaashi smirks knowingly like the cat that caught the mouse, but Bokuto fights him on it. “Seriously? _Now_ you wanna pay? You whined about not wanting to come all morning and how you wouldn’t come unless I paid!”

“Dude, are you seriously fighting me on saving you a couple bucks?” Kuroo asks. He grits his teeth and grunts a few words only for Bokuto to hear, making signals with his eyes toward Kenma. “Stop being an ass and let me pay.”

Bokuto follows the signals Kuroo made toward Kenma and gasps. “Oh! Oh, oh… _Ohhhh_ _.”_

“I’ve bought your ticket, Bokuto-san. Go pick out a club,” Akaashi says, directing Bokuto away from the ticket counter and toward the wall where the clubs are. Kuroo officially loves Akaashi.

“You don’t have to,” Kenma offers quietly, pulling out his wallet. He hasn’t said anything since they met and won’t look Kuroo in the eye.

Kuroo bats Kenma’s wallet away and stubbornly pays for two tickets. “Put that away, Kenma. You don’t pay for anything on a date.”

Kenma hums suspiciously and blushes when Kuroo hands him his entrance ticket. Kenma meets his eyes for a second before darting away, cheeks now thickly red. “Then I’ll pay for your lunch. You shouldn’t pay for anything on a date either.”

“Sounds good,” Kuroo says, impressed he can get any words out considering how tight his throat feels.

They share a quick smile until Bokuto hollers at them to hurry up.

-

Kenma stares at the different clubs as Kuroo picks the longest one they have. Holding a regular sized club and twisting it in his hands, Kenma’s breath hitches. “So this is--?”

“A date?” Kuroo finishes stiffly. Kenma nods. Attempting to come off as cool as possible, he shrugs. Kenma’s lips quirk in that way he does when thinking Kuroo isn’t cool at all. “Yeah. The whole point is that they wanted to go on a double date. Not much of a double date if the other two people aren’t on a date, is it?”

“Okay,” Kenma says, accepting the club and smiling at Kuroo. “Then we should act like it.”

He reaches out and Kuroo holds his hand until they rejoin Bokuto and Akaashi at the golf course entrance. Kuroo swallows thickly and feels like time stops.

-

“Dude,” Bokuto says, eyes wide and staring right at their connected hands like a little hand holding freaks him out, “it’s so weird seeing you two all…”

“Romantic,” Akaashi finishes. His voice is all too smug, but at least he isn’t openly gaping like Bokuto is. “It’s a double date, Bokuto-san. Of course they would look like a couple. Anyway, let’s choose our balls.”

Kuroo’s head is swimming from the joy of feeling Kenma’s fingers squeeze around his, and he’s thankful for Akaashi redirecting Bokuto’s attention yet again, even if he isn't the number one supporter in the Akaashi Fan Club. Bokuto immediately claims a golden golf ball that’s worn out into a mustardy color, and Akaashi takes the navy ball that almost looks black. He holds out the two remaining balls to Kuroo and Kenma.

“You can choose first,” Kuroo offers. Kenma takes them both from Akaashi and pockets the red ball. He offers the seaweed green one to Kuroo, not bothering to break their hands apart. “Green, huh?”

“It’s a good color for you,” Kenma says a bit shyly, looking away. His voice are as stiff as his movements.

“Getting shy on me already?” Kuroo teases.

Kenma releases a huff and smiles a bit more comfortably. “You wish.”

-

Kuroo and Bokuto fight with their clubs like swords as they walk to the first hole. A mother of four a few holes in front of them reminds them of the no roughhousing rules, her own children wielding their clubs and ready to jump in on the fighting, and Bokuto runs to Akaashi, squealing, “Kuroo got caught! Kuroo got caught!”

“You also got caught,” Akaashi reminds.

“Hey, don’t say that. It sounds like I did something wrong,” Bokuto pouts.

“You did do something wrong,” Akaashi says but his voice is fond.

Kuroo and Kenma watch the scene unfold and Kenma smiles softly after a moment more of Bokuto and Akaashi’s bickering.

“We make a better couple than them,” Kenma jokes.

“Way less fights,” Kuroo agrees. Kenma smiles up at Kuroo and laughs a little, but Akaashi calls for the two to come join them to determine putting order.

-

“We should play teams,” Bokuto proposes. “It’s more fun that way.”

“I agree. It makes the competition more focused too.” Akaashi scribbles something down on the scorecards and looks pointedly at Kuroo and Kenma for confirmation. “Couple versus couple?”

The ‘couple’ squirms nervously from Akaashi’s cool, blunt approach to their pretend relationship. Kuroo is shameless enough to admit --but only to himself --that he likes the sound of that. Him and Kenma. Couple. It spreads a warmth throughout his chest. “Sure, sounds good to me.”

Kenma nods back and with a final nod, Akaashi announces, “alright. Cats versus owls.”

“But I’m a cat too!” Bokuto whines, pouting at his name next to ‘Team Owl’ on the scorecard. “Owls look dumb. All they do is fly around, but there’s all kinds of really cool things cats do.”

“Well you’re an owl now,” Akaashi says. He frowns at Bokuto’s expression, a mixture of frustration and the oncoming of a mood dip. Kenma swallows thickly beside Kuroo, but Akaashi takes one of Bokuto’s hands into his own and kisses his knuckles. “Owls were important to my high school. It makes me sad that you’d say such a thing. Owls are very cool, maybe even cooler than cats. They’re vicious birds of prey, just like you.”

Kuroo’s lingering high school pride scoffs at the lie that owls are cooler than cats, but he keeps his protests silent, seeing Bokuto’s smile grow wide, saving them from an emotional meltdown.

“Well when you put it like that, okay!”

Kenma snorts from beside Kuroo, but Kuroo just says, “time to go, kitten.”

-

Bokuto, of course, volunteers to go first, and his first swing is so powerful that his ball ends up flying in the air and crashing into a plastic clown barrier a few holes ahead.

“Uh,” Kenma offers, tone making clear that he expected this.

“Whoops, guess I didn’t realize my own strength.” Bokuto’s voice is small and he’s shyly scratching his cheek. “Gotta go get a new ball, sorry guys.”

Kuroo watches how Akaashi’s jaw tightens as Bokuto skips to get a replacement, and he notices how Akaashi’s cheeks look a hint redder than usual.

“No,” Kuroo scolds immediately. “No, no, no. Bad Akaashi. No getting turned on just because Bokuto’s a tank. There are kids around, for crying out loud!”

“I’m not-- Don’t be crude.” Akaashi shuffles awkwardly, and if he wasn’t blushing before, he certainly is now. “Bokuto is truly impressive. It’s hard not to marvel at him.”

“Akaashi’s a pervert,” Kenma adds teasingly. Kuroo grins. They heckle him until Bokuto gets back, chanting, “Akaashi’s a pervert! Akaashi’s a pervert!”

When Bokuto returns, he simply pecks Akaashi chastely on the lips and says, “I like how Akaashi’s a pervert though. Are you getting naughty thoughts about me?”

“Not in public,” Akaashi chokes out through a thick blush, pushing Bokuto’s face away. He glares at Kuroo and Kenma and his eyes promise them a slow, painful death.

-

“Let me show you how to do it, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi offers. He presses himself against Bokuto’s back and maneuvers his body and wrists as he pleases, Bokuto completely pliant in Akaashi’s grasp. “You don’t need to use all your strength for mini golf. Be gentle with it.”

“Mmm, I _like_ mini golf,” Bokuto purrs. Kenma’s eyes go wide from Bokuto pushing his ass against Akaashi’s crotch and wiggling his hips teasingly, and he lets out a quiet scoff.

“They do it _all_ the time,” Kuroo agrees. He notices that he doesn’t feel as angry watching Akaashi move Bokuto’s arms back and forth to demonstrate how he should swing the club, but he isn’t sure why that is. “Doesn’t it make you want to stick a fork in your eye?”

Bokuto turns in Akaashi’s arm to try to kiss Akaashi as thanks, but Akaashi pushes Bokuto aside. “Absolutely. They’re so shameless.”

Bokuto pouts, and Akaashi takes his place behind Bokuto, chastely showing him how to swing. “Good thing we’re not like them.”

“We’re tasteful,” Kenma says, looking away from the couple to look down at their locked hands. He squeezes Kuroo’s hand.

“And cuter.”

Kenma looks at Kuroo, and Kuroo’s heart flutters at his soft smile. Kenma leans his head on Kuroo’s shoulder, nodding. “You’re right, we make a much cuter couple.”

-

Their moment is ruined when Bokuto starts screaming and running up to them shouting, “see that? See that? I got a hole-in-one!”

Kenma pulls a face at Bokuto. He simply says, “technically Akaashi did it.”

“Don’t say that!”

-

“Your turn,” Akaashi says, pointing to Kuroo with his chin.

“Okay,” he says and looks at Kenma.

Kenma stares back, still smiling softly, but his smile falls after five long seconds of staring at each other. “It’s your turn.”

“Can’t putt without these,” Kuroo jokes, willing the fingers of the hand Kenma’s still holding. Kenma pulls his hand back as though it was burnt and lets his hair hang over his face. Kuroo can’t see it, but he knows Kenma is blushing.

-

“Kenma, it’s your turn,” Akaashi calls out.

Kenma grumbles and walks up to the plate with a sigh. There’s no effort or power behind his swing, but it’s not such a problem for putt putt, luckily. Akaashi’s gaze is sharp and swift, analyzing.

“He’s lazy,” Bokuto explains as Kenma sighs at how his ball bounces off a bumper barrier again.

“He’s not lazy!” Kuroo insists passionately. “He’s just…unmotivated.”

“Aww, what a good boyfriend you are, bro~ Defending your boyfriend’s honor like that.”

“I-I’m-- Whatever!”

Bokuto and Akaashi leer at him with twin smirks, Kenma dragging his heels to chase after his gutter ball.

-

Between holes, Kenma reaches out for Kuroo, and he doesn’t protest when Kuroo cards his fingers through Kenma’s hair or calls him, “kitten.” He makes a face, but he doesn’t protest. “You’re sappy.”

“We’re on a date.”

“I thought you’d be more,” Kenma trails off, considering. His nose scrunches up but his face relaxes moments after. “I don’t know. Cool.”

“I  _am_ cool!” Kuroo insists, though he feels anything but cool when Kenma says it like that.

“You’re definitely not the cool type. If I had to say, you’re the sweet type,” Kenma adds. “It’s…cute.”

“I’m, uh.” Words. What were words? Kuroo’s forgotten all the words. “Really? You think so?”

Kenma shrugs. “Sometimes. It’s okay, though. I like it.”

-

They both swallow thickly, not looking at each other and squeezing each other’s hand.

-

Kuroo doesn’t notice it at the time, but Kenma doesn’t pull out his phone once while they’re playing.

-

Kenma looks away nervously and hides behind Kuroo a little bit, which is a bit awkward considering they’re still holding hands, as Bokuto stares at them like he’s trying to burn holes in their clothes with his eyeballs.

“Bokuto-san, it’s rude to stare,” Akaashi reminds, bending to retrieve his ball from the hole.

“I know, I know!” Bokuto shouts too loudly, but at least he finally breaks his gaze. He swings his club wildly, still ranting. “It’s just-- They look like a real couple!”

Kuroo forgets how to breathe and he notices Kenma blushing so hard that he focuses on the windmill ramp of the next hole’s course.

“They are a real couple,” Akaashi simply says with a thinly veiled smile, “at least for today.”

-

Akaashi hangs back with Kuroo as Bokuto tugs Kenma along to grab some ice cream, and for once Kuroo doesn’t feel the urge to choke Akaashi. It’s a first, truly. “So.”

“Hm?”

“When do you intend to confess to Kozume-san?” Akaashi asks. Kuroo feels his heart sink to his feet, and the urge to choke Akaashi returns twofold.

“I don’t-- What--” Kuroo stutters, grabbing Akaashi by the elbow and bringing him close enough to whisper. “Did Bokuto tell you?”

“He didn’t have to,” Akaashi says, smacking Kuroo’s grip away. “I happen to have two functioning eyes.”

“Shit,” Kuroo hisses. He glances over to Bokuto and Kenma just to make sure they didn’t see the scuffle, and he runs a hand through his hair. His thoughts are racing, wondering if Kenma’s noticed, wondering what he could do to tone down his feelings, wondering what exactly gave him away. “Don’t tell Kenma.”

“I don’t intend to, but may I ask why you haven’t told him already?”

“No,” Kuroo breathes out immediately, followed by, “No. Absolutely not. Isn’t it obvious? No, you’re out of your mind. I can’t. You heard Bokuto. We’re childhood friends, it’d be too weird. And Kenma… He doesn’t…”

“He might,” Akaashi simply says. Before Kuroo can fight him on it, Akaashi leaves his side to slot his hand in Bokuto’s.

-

Akaashi putts a few more hole-in-ones, but Bokuto’s strength is a little detrimental to their team. Still, Bokuto is tenacious and the combination of his hard work and Akaashi’s skill results in many strokes below par, and they highfive whenever either of them scores a birdie. Kuroo and Kenma are only two strokes below par, nothing terribly outstanding, but they aren’t as determined to win as Bokuto and Akaashi apparently are. Both Bokuto and Akaashi cheer each other on from the sidelines, which Kenma must find embarrassing because he puts as much distance as possible between himself and them, sometimes even resorting to walk to a different course to get away from them.

It’s sweet though, and Kuroo whistles when Kenma goes up to putt, calling out, “looking good, Kenma~”

Bokuto and Akaashi don’t even notice, too wrapped up in each other, but Kenma looks over his shoulders, blushing thickly, and offers a thumb’s up.

-

“Your hair looks dumb, by the way. Here, let me,” Kenma says, reaching up to ruffle Kuroo’s hair. He shakes the locks from the gel, takes a step back, and grins. “Yeah. Much better now.”

-

“Bro. What did you do to your hair?” Bokuto asks while Kenma putts.

Kuroo resists the urge to self-consciously touch his hair. “Does it look bad?”

“Nah,” Bokuto says with a casual shrug. “It looked really good a few minutes ago but now it just looks like usual.”

-

He doesn’t want it to end, Kuroo thinks, bitterly, but he knew eventually it would have to. He holds onto Kenma’s hand tightly and tries to memorize the way Kenma’s hand feels in his own.

-

Eighteen holes later, Kuroo is starving and Kenma’s beginning to look red from the sun. Kuroo’s unanimously elected to take a selfie of the four of them at the final hole since he has the longest arms, and Kenma makes a group chat for the four of them. Bokuto names the chat, ‘Cats vs. Owls,’ taking newfound pride in the symbolic animal he and Akaashi now share, and Akaashi spams the chat with photos he’d been taking throughout the day. Kuroo saves a picture of Kuroo and Kenma taken from behind, hands linked and Kenma’s face tilted enough to the side to see a rare smile.

-

Kenma holds onto Kuroo’s hand beneath the table at lunch. They have the same waitress as a few days ago, but she neither seems surprised nor judgmental. Not at Kuroo, Kenma, or Akaashi, anyway. She definitely sighs at Bokuto and reminds him that this is a family establishment and that if he has another outburst about inappropriate topics, she’ll have to ask him to leave.

-

“Well, I should go,” Kenma says after lunch, as they’re approaching the station. His dorm is in the opposite direction as Kuroo and Bokuto’s apartment, after all.

“This is a date,” Akaashi reminds. Bokuto, Kuroo, and Kenma all raise their eyebrows in question, but Akaashi is looking directly at Kenma when he says, “so you should be dropped off, no?”

“Oh yeah, that’s very datey,” Bokuto agrees. “It’s in all the movies. And then the couple ki--”

“Bokuto-san and I will be at our home,” Akaashi says, grabbing Bokuto by the wrist and pulling him toward the eastbound train. If Kuroo wasn’t convinced Akaashi was his personal relationship fairy godfather, he’d be annoyed at how comfortable Akaashi is saying, ‘our home.’

Kenma shrugs, and even though Akaashi and Bokuto are out of sight, he reaches out for Kuroo’s hand.

-

“Did you know it was going to be a date?” Kenma asks when the board the train.

“Yeah, but--” Kuroo stammers. He hadn’t really wanted to talk about this, but if Kenma wants to, then he doesn’t have much of a choice. He runs a hand through his now messy hair and laughs to himself, remembering how ridiculous his morning had started. “Bokuto kind of made me.”

“I see,” Kenma says, frowning a little. His gaze drops to his shoes, and Kenma fishes his phone out of his pocket. “I’m sorry about that then.”

“Don’t mind,” Kuroo confesses, shrugging. He looks over Kenma’s shoulder to see what game he’s playing. Not Pokemon Go for once. “Did you? Know it was a date, I mean.”

Kenma doesn’t miss a tap on his screen as he continues the visual novel he was playing at Kuroo and Bokuto’s house party. Kuroo hums to himself, noting that Kenma’s achieved the romance with the character he was working on days ago. “Yeah, Akaashi told me from the start.”

“And you were okay with it?” Kuroo asks, surprised. Kenma wasn’t one for human interaction, especially with romance, especially with random strangers on a blind date.

Kenma looks Kuroo in the eye, and it feels like the end of this conversation. “Yes.”

-

Kenma falls asleep on the train and his head leans on Kuroo’s shoulder. Kuroo grins to himself the entire ride.

-

“So I’ve dropped you off,” Kuroo says.

“So you have,” Kenma echoes back. He stands in the doorway to his dorm, shifting his weight from side-to-side like he’s waiting for something.

“So that’s good. Perfect end to a perfect date.” Kenma’s lips thin out, but there’s no way he’s thinking the same thing as Kuroo, how this isn’t a perfect ending until he kisses Kenma. Kuroo swallows. He’s never been this nervous around Kenma and he’s not quite sure what to do or how to shut up. “Just like out of the movies, right? That’s pretty neat.”

“Kuroo. Shut up,” Kenma says, pulling at Kuroo’s shirt. He yanks Kuroo close, barely brushes their lips together, and immediately breaks away. Kuroo blinks, stunned, as Kenma dips behind the door and slams it shut.

-

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 3:19 PM  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Now its a perfect ending to a perfect date.  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** <3   
  


-

Kuroo feels like he’s floating on air the entire way home.

-

 _“You’re back_ _,”_ Akaashi disapprovingly observes. Kuroo feels it’s unwarranted considering Akaashi is the one with an open shirt and straddling Bokuto’s hips on Kuroo’s shitty couch, but he’s still feeling too weightless, near floating, from the feel of Kenma’s lips on his own to be mad.

“Mmhmm,” Kuroo hums, walking toward them in a daze.

Bokuto sits up and doesn’t even look angry as he makes space for Kuroo on the couch. He has to yank Akaashi into his lap, but Kuroo doesn’t mind how disgustingly comfortable and tactile they are with each other for once. “So? How’d it go?”

“All I did was take Kenma home,” Kuroo reminds.

It’s the wrong answer, apparently, since both of them squint at him. Bokuto pats Akaashi’s thigh and speaks up. “Yeah, but-- Like? Can I be honest? Because everybody here knows about your big, fat crush on Kenma. So? Did you make a move or anything?”

“Um,” Kuroo says eloquently. His gaze drops to this fidgeting hands in his lap and already his cheeks are getting hot. “Kenma did, actually.”

“Cool,” Bokuto says cheerfully and heartily pats Kuroo on the shoulder. “Happy for you, bro! What’d he do? Invite you upstairs? Cop a feel? Pronounce his undying love for you?”

“I thought for sure you’d spend the night,” Akaashi adds pointedly.

“Nothing like that,” Kuroo says, shrugging Bokuto’s arm away and shooting Akaashi a dark glare. “All he did was kiss me.”

“That’s wonderful,” Akaashi says. “Did you use tongue or are you saving that for later?”

“No! There was no tongue, no touching, no anything, okay? It was just a quick kiss on the lips and that’s it. Lasted maybe two seconds and then he ran away. That’s it.”

“He ran away?” Bokuto asks as he and Akaashi share a look. Kuroo doesn’t like their looks. They never mean anything good.

“Uh, yeah? You know how Kenma is.”

“Yeah, but…”

Akaashi pats Kuroo sympathetically. “At least it’s something.”

Something, Kuroo inwardly repeats to himself. Before he can dwell on what Bokuto and Akaashi are implying, Bokuto claps his hands and announces, “well we were watching a drama before Akaashi started ravishing me. Wanna watch with us?”

Kuroo kicks off his shoes, props his feet up on their dingy ping pong table, and steals Bokuto’s cold beer. “Sure, why not? You staying tonight, Akaashi?”

“Yes,” Akaashi answers immediately, buttoning up his shirt while Bokuto moves them into a more comfortable position for watching TV.

“Cool,” is all Kuroo says, not feeling uncomfortable even when Bokuto and Akaashi steal quick kisses throughout the show.

-

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 8:57 PM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** we’re good, right?  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** ?  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** because  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** today. you know. stuff.  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Are you talking about the date?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** well. yeah.  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** I didnt mind. Youre a good date. Surprisingly.  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** why surprisingly!!!  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** and thanks :) you were a great date too btw  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Thanks  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** And no reason. Just always imagined it differently. But it was good.  
  


Kuroo bites his bottom lip, considering if she should add, “we should do it again,” to the end of his message. He doesn’t, but he still thinks about it, just like how he can feel Akaashi’s sharp look on him. “Stop staring. It’s weird.”

“Do you need advice?” Akaashi offers, but it sounds condescending.

“No,” Kuroo says, rereading Kenma’s latest text and trying to decide whether Kenma meant that in an awkward friend kind of way or if he meant it in a potentially romantically interested way. “But do you think Kenma likes me? Like, do you think I have any chance at all?”

Bokuto and Akaashi groan in unison.

-

Around eleven, they all take turns showering, brushing their teeth, and changing into nightclothes. Bokuto loans Akaashi a shirt and some boxers, and Kuroo notices that Akaashi is more muscular than he thought. He wasn’t about to ogle his bro’s boyfriend in the gym shower, but Kuroo had expected to see lithe and flexible muscles, not some honest to god biceps. They’re nowhere near as impressive as Bokuto’s (whose were?), but still. _Biceps_.

Kuroo crawls into his bunk and watches the two carefully climb onto Bokuto’s. Bokuto goes up first and Kuroo feels a bit awkward noticing how Akaashi’s checking out his bro’s butt. It’s expected, but it still makes Kuroo want to text Kenma to see if he can sleep on Kenma’s floor or bed for the night.

“Not to make this awkward, but… Well, I’m just gonna say it: the bunks are a no sex zone, okay?”

“No problem. Got it,” Bokuto agrees from above, just as Akaashi reassures, “That’s to be expected.”

Kuroo can hear them rustling around, but Kuroo can tell from the rustle of their clothes that they’re just cuddling. Bokuto laughs every now and then, and Kuroo hears a few soft, whispered murmurs that he can’t quite hear but assumes are sweet little nothings.

Kuroo sighs, lets his breathing even out, and tries not to think about all the sweet things he’d do if Kenma was beside him. It feels too cold in his bunk, and it’s hard to let his thoughts settle when memories of the kiss he and Kenma shared and their date keep playing behind his eyelids.


	6. Day five

_♪ BABY, IT’S YOOOUUUU ♪_  
_♪ YOU’RE THE ONE I LOOOOOOOVE ♪_  
_♪ YOU’RE THE ONE I NEEEEED ♪_ _  
_ _♪ YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE I SEEE ♪_

“What the hell _is_ that!?” Kuroo immediately shrieks, sitting up in bed and looking from side-to-side like a wild animal to find out where the offending music is interrupting his sleep. Beyoncé’s dulcet tones bounce off every wall, his head filled without nothing but a chorus he knows by heart.

 _♪ COME ON, BABY, IT’S YOOOOOUUU ♪_  
_♪ YOU’RE THE ONE THAT GIVES YOUR AAAAAALL ♪_ _  
_ _♪ YOU’RE THE ONE I CAN ALWAYS CAAAAAALL ♪_

Kuroo instinctively clutches to his mattress when the bunk begins to rattle, and he blinks repeatedly, bleary eyes still trying to adjust to the dim morning light filtering through the curtains. He doesn’t have much time before there’s a heavy thud at the foot of the bed and the curtains peel apart, bright sunshine invading the safety of the room. Kuroo hisses, holds up his hands, and sinks back into bed like he’s a vampire slayed by morning light.

 _♪ WHEN I NEED TO MAKE EVERYTHING STOP ♪_ _  
_ _♪ FINALLY YOU PUT MY LOVE ON TOP ♪_

“Sorry bout that, bro! Had to set an alarm so we’d be on time for our breakfast date,” Bokuto apologizes softly, cutting the music, but Kuroo’s as blinded by Bokuto’s dazzling energy as he is by the light. Bokuto practically floats as he opens their shared dresser and closet for fresh clothes.

“We didn’t mean to wake you up. That alarm was as startling to me as it was to you,” Akaashi adds, looking groggy and snappish before his morning coffee. The bunk rattles again before there’s a soft thud at the foot of the bed again, and Akaashi reaches for the clothes he wore yesterday, neatly folded on Bokuto and Kuroo’s drawer. “Next time I’ll make sure his alarm is at a respectable volume.”

A sound that distinctly sounds like a cat dying escapes from Kuroo at the implication of there _being_ a next time.

“It had to be loud so we wouldn’t sleep through it!” Without missing a beat, Bokuto turns pointedly to Kuroo and tacks on, “He wants to go to this fancy place that’s only open for three hours in the morning and there’s always a line.”

“It’s inconvenient but delicious,” Akaashi assures, pulling over his shirt.

“That place you meant to go two days ago but ended up fighting about feathers instead?” Kuroo hopes his voice sounds as bitter as his feeling of being roused from sleep.

“Yeah!” Kuroo winces at Bokuto’s voice, which _sounds_ too bright for Kuroo’s adjusting eyes. He doesn’t even seem to register Kuroo’s passive aggressive tone or reference to their fight, beaming radiant smiles at Akaashi.

“What time is it?” Kuroo croaks, pulling his pillows and blankets over his head.

“Fifteen until seven,” Akaashi says.

Bokuto pets the blanket cocoon that is Kuroo, managing to give two firm pats to the arch that is Kuroo’s hide. “You can sleep in. If you’re not awake by the time we get back, I’ll wake you up. We gotta swing by Akaashi’s for his clothes anyway.”

Bokuto’s humming the tune he’d used as an alarm as Akaashi herds him out, wishing Kuroo a final farewell. Between the space of the pillows over his head and his mattress, he watches them walk out hand-in-hand.

“Oh _goody_ ,” Kuroo grumbles, but when he hears the front door open, he calls out, “have a good date, you jerks!”

Kuroo hears his phone beep seven times in quick succession, and all of them except for one are a combination of kissing emojis from Bokuto. The last one is from Akaashi, a simple apology for waking him up and also a kissing emoji. Kuroo smirks at the messages before pulling his pillows over his head and going back to sleep.

-

Kuroo wakes up to the sound of soft laughter and something shattering. If that’s not a plea for help in this sad, crazy week, Kuroo doesn’t know what is. He stumbles out of bed, well rested, to find Bokuto defending Akaashi from the floor and Akaashi reminding Bokuto to be careful. Between the push and pull of it all, they manage to find the broom Bokuto and Kuroo never used throughout all of last year and sweep up the shattered glass.

“Everything okay in here?” Kuroo asks, interrupted by a yawn, and scratches at his balls as he enters the kitchen.

“I dropped a cup while drying them,” Bokuto explains, but it’s Akaashi who blushes. “Akaashi wanted a glass of wine while we prepped lunch for you. Thought it would be nice but…oops? Surprise!”

“That’s sweet,” Kuroo says cautiously, and looks in surprise at Akaashi. Akaashi doesn’t seem to share Kuroo’s shock because he merely stares back, only the twitch of his fingers fondling the remains of the wine left from the other day. Kuroo digs out his phone and unlocks it just long enough to show the date and time, and Akaashi looks away, obviously embarrassed by his early proclivities. “It’s not even noon though.”

“It’s happy hour somewhere,” Bokuto answers with a shrug, immediately setting to prepare lunch. Kuroo’s shocked to see Bokuto unload a bag of groceries of fresh vegetables and a bag of grains that Akaashi says to start boiling water for. “It’s cool. Not like it’s school yet. We’re making salad and quinoa for lunch, by the way. Akaashi says it’s high on protein.”

Akaashi doesn’t answer, merely making himself busy with the dishes. It crosses Kuroo’s mind that Bokuto dating Akaashi might be a good thing for their lives if thoughtful and nutritious lunches are going to be a regular occurrence, but remarkably Bokuto joins Akaashi as soon as he’s prepped the basics for their meal. Kuroo wonders who this Bokuto is and where he kidnapped, tortured, and left the _real_ Bokuto.

Kuroo stares at them with all his might, noting that Akaashi’s jeans are different from the ones he was wearing earlier and that they look natural side-by-side with Akaashi lathering and rinsing the dishes with soap and Bokuto drying and putting the dishes up. They’re done before he can offer to help, and the two of them move onto to making the salad, Bokuto cutting greens while Akaashi starts segregating what seems to be sauce ingredients.

“You could have woke me up earlier,” Kuroo says, unsure how to make himself useful, but Bokuto and Akaashi don’t seem to give any mind to Kuroo’s idleness. Coffee is the priority, but when he checks the coffee maker, there’s already a warm batch waiting for him. Without prompting, Bokuto pipes, “think quick!” and tosses him a cup.

“Don’t break any more of your cups. You only have a few left,” Akaashi scolds. Bokuto whines but Akaashi pays it no mind, looking at Kuroo and shrugging. “You were too serene to wake up.”

“Akaashi said you looked like an angel sleeping.” Bokuto teases and then flashes a grin over his shoulder. “Even I didn’t have the heart to do it!”

“…Oh,” Kuroo says kind of lamely, but he fills his coffee, moves the ping pong table into the dining room, and takes a seat, asking Bokuto and Akaashi about their day while they cook. He wonders for a second, and only a second, if Kenma is too lazy to wash his own dishes or if he’d do it if he was their home. He thinks Kenma wouldn’t mind making lunch, but only if Kuroo was by his side.

-

“Can you do nothing wrong?” Kuroo hisses, after a mouthful of salad mixed with quinoa, nuts, and dried fruit, glaring at Akaashi. Here Kuroo had been hoping that cooking might be Akaashi’s Achilles’ heel, but the lunch is one of the best and most nutritious he’s had since coach stopped monitoring their diets over the break.

Akaashi smirks. Bokuto says, “that’s why I love him!”

-

“I gotta do laundry,” Bokuto says, somewhat dejectedly, during the meal. He moves some of the spinach around in his plate, and that’s how Kuroo knows he feels bad. “It’s not a lot of fun, so it’s cool if you wanna go home.”

“I don’t mind,” Akaashi says, looking up from his salad. “We should get used to chores if we’re going to be living together next year.”

“ _What._ ” It’s a question, but not really, and Kuroo drops his fork against his plate so that it makes a dramatic clang to capture their attention. “Since when is that a thing?”

Bokuto doesn’t meet his or Akaashi’s eye but confesses, “it’s not a for sure thing. It’s just… Me and Akaashi are a thing. So it’s normal to move in together, right? I mean, I told Akaashi that we’d have to look into two bedrooms in case you still want to live with us. I wouldn’t put you out like that, bro. Either way, I’m not gonna move until the lease is over, but, uh…”

“Bokuto-san and I want to take the next step in our lives together,” Akaashi supplies while Bokuto’s shrugging uselessly. Kuroo blankly stares and he knows his jaw is dropped, but he can’t find it in himself to shut his mouth. “I honor that you two live together and of course it wouldn’t be right for Bokuto-san to break his lease. But it’s necessary that we let you know our intentions.”

Kuroo swallows a mouthful of salad and wishes it tasted as sour as Kuroo’s mood, but god damn it Akaashi could do no wrong.

-

Akaashi doesn’t even make faces at Bokuto’s sweat-stained shirts as he helps sort through Bokuto’s dirty laundry. Just as calmly and coolly as he does everything else, he explains that it’s best to sort laundry by lights and darks and demonstrates for Bokuto what his laundry loads should look like. Bokuto lets out a long, “oooooh,” like a child, but he nods seriously and promises, “I’ll remember this for life.”

“Please do. I don’t want my clothes to bleed.”

“I’ll never let them bleed! I’ll protect them just like I’ll protect you,” Bokuto assures, flexing his arm and petting the muscle demonstratively. Akaashi smiles a little and tells Bokuto that won’t help their laundry, but he does feel up Bokuto’s bicep in appreciation.

Kuroo watches them do this from his bunk. He has laundry he could be doing right now, but somehow seeing those two so comfortable with Bokuto’s smelly underwear and stained socks doesn’t put him in the mood for it.

-

Bokuto dumps his two loads of laundry into the basement washers and curls up with Akaashi on the couch while his laundry tosses. Bokuto and Kuroo are both on an edge since they know the middle of the couch is the worst, and Akaashi leans into Bokuto to compensate for it, though his thigh is still pressing against Kuroo’s.

“This couch is Kuroo-san’s, right?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo says, grinning at the sour curl to Akaashi’s lips. “It’s my couch.”

“Good.” Akaashi curls up to Bokuto, who rearranges himself for Akaashi to be clingier and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “I don’t want it in our apartment next year.”

Kuroo, gasps, scandalized, and it isn’t because the protagonist of the drama they’re watching just found out her best friend is sleeping with her brother’s girlfriend.

-

“Dude. Your laundry is seriously gross,” Kuroo says with a laugh and a leer, now that Bokuto’s clean laundry is all piled up on the couch.

“Separate each piece of clothing by type first,” Akaashi says, as though he isn’t grossed out by how Bokuto’s gym wear still smells like balls and feet, and completely ignoring Kuroo’s remark. He occasionally grabs one of Bokuto’s sorted items and changes it to a different pile, explaining the reason behind the system again, but Bokuto looks frustrated.

“This is so much work for laundry,” Bokuto whines. “I just put it all in a drawer.”

Akaashi frowns and pointedly grabs a sock Bokuto put in the shirt pile and moves it to the sock pile. “Well you won’t be doing that when we live together, so consider this practice.”

Bokuto’s eyes light up. “Practice!”

“Yes, practice.” Akaashi smiles fondly and kisses Bokuto’s cheek when he enthusiastically sorts the next piece of clothing properly. Kuroo sighs.

-

“I feel so weird seeing your underwear,” Kuroo says. He’s watching a program about large wildcats from the floor but looks at the couch every now and then to check on Akaashi and Bokuto’s progress. Bokuto only has two loads of laundry, but most of it is clothes for the gym, so it stinks.

“It’s not that unusual,” Akaashi says, now folding Bokuto’s underwear.

“I can do that!” Bokuto screeches in embarrassment, snatching the underwear out of Akaashi’s hands, but Akaashi merely reaches out for a new pair of underwear and neatly folds it.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” he insists. “We all wear it. Haven’t you seen your teammates’ during practice?”

Bokuto, however, continues to freak out, and even Kuroo frowns at Akaashi’s no-nonsense approach to handling a pair of boxer briefs with suspicious stains on it. “Dude, nobody pays attention to that kind of thing. Super gross.”

“Yours looks the same! I’ve seen them!” Bokuto hollers back, just as Akaashi brings the current pair of underwear to his face, sniffs, and says disapprovingly, “you should try to keep your clothes cleaner, Bokuto-san. Not even a wash will get rid of that smell.”

Kuroo winces at Akaashi’s familiarity with Bokuto’s underwear. “I’m just saying, it’s gross! And weird to see somebody else touching your junk stuff! ”

“Perhaps you should invite Kozume-san to do the same,” Akaashi interrupts, which then causes a silence between both Kuroo and Bokuto. Akaashi shrugs as though their shock doesn’t concern him in the least. “If I’m counting correctly, this is the fifth date Bokuto-san and I have had. As you can see, this is no big deal for me, and it’s not like Kozume-san hasn’t seen your unmentionables before. It might give you new perspective.”

Kuroo opens and closes his mouth, and then he wishes for one of Akaashi’s bottles of wine right now.

-

Bokuto continues to squeal in embarrassment as Akaashi touches his underwear and dryly jokes around with it, so it’s up to Kuroo to answer the door when there’s a knock. He groans and excuses himself, but he’s entirely surprised to see the stranger in front of him. “Who are you?”

“We live on the same floor,” the man explains. “I’m Kobayashi. I live three doors down with my fiancée. Your apartment is quite loud, so before the Watanabes can report you again, I just wanted to let you know your apartment is causing a bit of a disturbance right now.”

“I’m sorry about that. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll tell the idiots to keep it down. I’m sorry to be a bother,” Kuroo says formally. It’s not the best of visits but at least they’re not getting reported a third time.

He’s in the middle of closing the door when his hallway neighbor takes a breath and continues, “and it’s going to be an issue with your third roommate. This building only allows two residents per unit.”

“Our what now?” Kuroo asks, opening the door widely and fixing his best Captain Look on Kobayashi.

“Your third roommate. You wouldn’t want the landlord finding out, so please keep it down.”

“We don’t have a third roommate,” Kuroo says, a little bit more harshly, and he leans against his doorway in a way that he knows is intimidating to anybody shorter than himself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do,” Kobayashi says, nodding just behind Kuroo’s shoulder. Kuroo follows his neighbor’s gaze until it lands on Akaashi and Bokuto, who are throwing Bokuto’s socks at each other and laughing.

Kuroo takes a deep breath and returns his gaze back to Kobayashi, who smiles but looks expectant. “That’s not our roommate. That’s my roommate’s boyfriend.”

For a moment there’s silence, but Kuroo holds his breath as he watches Kobayashi’s eyes open wider in understanding until his face looks a little blue. “There’s a policy against overnight guests.”

“What,” Kuroo says eloquently. The pit of his stomach tightens and he thinks he realizes what’s going on, but he still clicks his jaw into place, hearing the guy out first.

“There’s a policy against overnight guests,” the guy repeats. “It’s not allowed. You can’t let him stay here again. If I see him again, I’ll have to tell--”

“Okay, you know what? No. We’re done here. That guy makes my bro the happiest he’s ever been in his life and if you dare report him, I’m going to bring that policy against every person in this building that has ever let their boyfriend, girlfriend, nighttime companion, long-lost friend, or mother stay the night. And I know for a fact at least one of those applies to you. Repeatedly. So fuck you and goodbye.”

Kuroo slams the door on the asshole’s face and stomps back to the living room. Akaashi looks at him nervously and it only makes Kuroo’s blood boil more, now wondering what the neighbor said to him a few days ago when he answered the door. Akaashi was shameless with Bokuto, but he was also polite, too polite, in fact, to tell off a concerned neighbor.

Akaashi catches Kuroo’s eye and quickly bites his lip and looks away. Bokuto’s still whining about Akaashi touching where his butt’s been, so Kuroo claps Akaashi on the shoulder, prompting the guy to look him in the eye again. “You happy with Bokuto?”

“Yes,” Akaashi answers immediately, but his eyebrows are curled like he doesn’t understand why the question is directed at him.

“Bro,” Kuroo calls out, nodding to Bokuto with his chin. Bokuto looks up at the term of endearment. “You happy with Akaashi?”

Caught in the middle of trying to hide his favorite pair of boxers with little kitties on them, Bokuto responds immediately, “yes. Why, something wrong?”

“Good. Then no, nothing’s wrong,” Kuroo says vaguely, irritably taking his seat again. He waves them off. “Resume your flirting or whatever. Be extra loud about it.”

-

Being loud has never been a problem for Bokuto.

-

Within a few hours, the two lovebirds have settled down, Bokuto’s laundry is up, and Kuroo’s sitting between Bokuto and Akaashi’s legs on the floor, Bokuto every now and then slapping Kuroo’s head when something funny happens in the show and Kuroo punching his knee for it.

Akaashi pulls out his phone during one of their spats that turns to into an impromptu wrestling match on the floor, announcing, “it’s time.”

“Oh,” Bokuto says, pulling away from Kuroo’s chokehold and following Akaashi to his feet. “Sorry, dude, to be continued. Gotta go now.”

“What? Aren’t you staying in? It’s the first night we have together since we moved in. Bro night!” Kuroo says -- shouts -- while pantomiming opening up a cold one.

“I’m meeting the rest of Akaashi’s family today. They want us to do a formal introduction ceremony for everybody. And then next week we tell my family…” Bokuto bites the inside of his cheek and Kuroo feels a tug of empathy, knowing fully well that talking to Bokuto’s parents would go worse than the conversation he had earlier with their neighbor. Ever quick to recover, Bokuto grins brightly at Kuroo.  “But we’ll have a bro night tomorrow, okay? I promise! -- Er, is that okay, Akaashi?”

Akaashi shakes his head, but he proves to be a better guy than Kuroo expected. Just one more reason to hate him. “You don’t need my permission. I think it would be wonderful for you two to spend a night together. I feel responsible for intruding in your friendship.”

“You’re not responsible!” Bokuto says, but carefully does not deny that Akaashi’s an intrusion. “It’s my fault too. Because I love you so much and I just want to be around you always and--”

“Ughh!” Kuroo groans out, rolling his eyes. He grabs one of the couch pillows and throws it at Bokuto’s head. _“Bye._ Just go meet your in-laws already!”

-

Though Kuroo may have his differences with Akaashi, he’s happy to receive the photographic updates of the party from Akaashi. A few hours later, he has several photos of Bokuto smiling and making silly poses with two mini Akaashis, a picture of Bokuto raising a glass in cheers with what looks to be a decade older version of Akaashi, and a selfie of Bokuto and Akaashi making a heart shape with their hands and the caption, “missin u bro. -bro.” As he scrolls through the many pictures, Kuroo can’t help but think that the Akaashi genes are truly a fearsome thing. Kuroo loves the pictures, but the repeated beeping of his phone reminds him how quiet it is in the apartment.

-

The text messages start to slow down around four, and with no word from Bokuto at six, Kuroo starts to get the feeling that Bokuto isn’t coming home tonight.

-

Brotein Shake   
  
**Today** 6:37 PM  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** coming home tonight?  
  
**[From: Brotein Shake]** nah staying at AKAASHI’s tonight  
  
**[From: Brotein Shake]** sorry i didn’t tell u it kinda just happened  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** nice  :)  
  
**Today** 6:42 PM  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** no worries. so u good?  
  
**[From: Brotein Shake]** yea really good  ;)  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** o yeah?  ;)  
  
**[From: Brotein Shake]** yea  ;)  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** how good?  ;)  
  
**[From: Brotein Shake]** AKAASHI’s giving me a handjob in his childhood room rn good  ;)  
  
**[From: Brotein Shake]** attached: AkaashiSaysHi.jpg  
  
**Today** 6:49 PM  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** oh my god  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** oh my god.  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** D: D: D:   
  
**[From: Brotein Shake]** thnx for checkin in bro  ;)  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** ew  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** never text me again  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** winky face rights revoked  
  
**[From: Brotein Shake]** lmao what does revoked mean again?  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** i honestly hate u rn  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** go suck ur bf’s cock or smth  
  
**[From: Brotein Shake]** that’s the plan for tonight !!!  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** i hate you and everything you choose to be  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** but good luck my bro  ;)  
  
**[From: Brotein Shake]** thnx bro  ;)  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** ;)   
  


-

Bokuto doesn’t come home that night. Kuroo convinces himself he doesn’t care.

(He does.)

-

At half past seven, Kuroo is lonely. Not just Bokuto-isn’t-here lonely but the-apartment-feels-so-empty-and-I-will-die-alone lonely. Some show has been playing for the past half hour, but Kuroo has only blinked at it, completely unaware of what it is or what’s happening. He feels restless and annoyed and he’s not sure what to do, so there’s only one thing _to_ do.

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 7:31 PM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** bae come over  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Im trying to beat Persona tonight  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** bokuto’s out with akaashi  ;)  
  


Kuroo holds his breath in the same way he holds his phone: stiffly yet shakily, a tightness in his chest. It’s not simply that he texts Kenma with a flirty meme or invites Kenma over that has him tense. At least, if Kuroo was asked, “straight up, what has you most anxious about trying to shield your romantic attraction from Kenma?” neither of those things would be the first thing out of his mouth. No, the first thing would be, in the highest, most flamboyant voice he can muster: “honey, there’s nothing straight about me.”

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 7:32 PM  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Omw  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Should i bring the switch or the ps4?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** switch!!!  >:3  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** K  
  


Kuroo breathes a sigh of relief and touches the nickname for Kenma in his phone with fondness. Maybe it’s not such a shitty night after all.

-

True to his word, Kenma arrives with a backpack filled with the Switch Kuroo stood in a five-hour line with Kenma to buy and a few games. The first thing Kenma does after shouldering his way past Kuroo is hook it up to the TV. It’s only afterward that he finally looks up to face Kuroo, but Kuroo is used to it and actually finds Kenma’s priorities adorable.

“So what do you want to do?” Kenma asks, voice oddly even unlike when Kenma asks but means he just wants to play his game. If Kuroo didn’t know any better, he’d think Kenma sacrificing Persona for the night and putting Kuroo’s interests before his video games is a sign that Kenma is in love with him.

Kuroo shrugs, looking around his bare apartment. “Well… I got some laundry you could help me with?”

-

“Laundry,” Kenma repeats.

“Yeah. Didn’t want to wash mine with Bokuto’s earlier.” It looks like Kuroo shrugs, but really he’s trying to shake off Akaashi’s voice in the back of his head.

Kenma stares at him for a moment, looks away to consider, and shrugs. “Sure.”

-

Kenma helping with laundry is about as helpful as a cat helping put the sheets on a mattress. Kenma’s starfishing on the couch when Kuroo warns him that he’s about to dump his dirty clothes on him, and Kenma doesn’t move, giving a quiet, “oomph,” when Kuroo does exactly what he said he would.

“We have to separate the loads of laundry,” Kuroo says, just as Kenma grumbles and kicks a pair of Kuroo’s underwear off his leg. “Hey! Be careful with that.”

“Why? It’s dirty already,” Kenma reasons while watching Kuroo bend over to grab his briefs. When Kuroo looks up, he thinks he spies Kenma watching his butt, but Kenma looks away, letting his now-touched up golden hair fall in his face.

“Doesn’t mean I want it any dirtier.” Kuroo already starts to separate his laundry, which is just as small as Bokuto’s, into piles of lights and dark.

“That would be difficult since you’re already a dirty old man,” Kenma insists, flinging a black sock that was stuck to his chest to Kuroo’s dark pile of clothes.

“I’m wounded!” Kuroo shouts dramatically, clutching his heart.

Kenma laughs and throws the other sock at Kuroo’s head. “Be wounded after your laundry.”

-

While Kuroo loads his laundry into the washers, Kenma sits on one of the dryers and pulls out his DS.

“Animal Crossing?” Kuroo asks, shoving in the last of his lights even though the barrel is full. Doesn’t matter if it’s truly clean or not; he’ll just sweat his whites until they look yellow anyway.

“Pokemon,” Kenma corrects. He looks up just long enough to hold Kuroo’s eye, and when Kuroo’s gaze drops to Kenma’s mouth, he sees Kenma biting his bottom lip. “Wanna watch me play?”

“Sure,” Kuroo says casually. Kenma scoots to the right to make space for Kuroo, and Kuroo heaves himself beside Kenma. With only two washers and dryers in their small basement, it’s just enough space for two full-grown men to sit together. Kenma rearranges his DS so that Kuroo can see it, and he doesn’t complain when Kuroo rests his head against Kenma’s.

-

“Look, it’s my favorite,” Kuroo laughs, pointing to the Dratini on screen.

“Not penisy enough,” Kenma says, and Kuroo laughs into Kenma’s hair.

-

One of the neighbors who comes down to do laundry gives Kuroo a nasty look, but Kuroo can’t figure out if it’s because it looks like he’s all but cuddling Kenma or if it’s because he’s using both of the washers. Either way, Kuroo doesn’t care.

-

They only move when it’s time to move the laundry from the washer to the dryer. They sit on the washers next, and Kenma lies, saying there’s a load of laundry in both of the washers, when the neighbor returns to check on the laundry room. Kuroo doesn’t mind; the washers are just as comfortable to sit on.

-

“I have to fold all of it and put them away,” Kuroo explains.

Kenma, frowning at Kuroo’s pile of clothes, asks, “why can’t you just put them all in a drawer?”

-

 _‘Akaashi_ ** _isn’t_** _right,’_ Kuroo assures himself, watching Kenma make a face while folding Kuroo’s underwear in the way Akaashi showed Bokuto earlier, _‘because Kenma isn’t acting any differently.’_

-

“I’m soooo booooored,” Kuroo says, flopping dramatically on his bed, right on top of Kenma playing on his phone, after folding and putting away his last pair of underwear.

Kenma lets out a snort but cards his fingers through Kuroo’s hair. Kuroo nuzzles his cheek where it’s settled on Kenma’s stomach, and Kenma doesn’t protest. “The Switch is already hooked up, if you want to play with me.”

“We could,” Kuroo sighs. But he purses his lips together and flashes a look at Kenma that makes it obvious he’s not in the mood for it.

Kenma frowns. He continues to move his fingers through Kuroo’s hair. A few of Kuroo’s natural knots catch in Kenma’s fingers. “Maybe there’s something on TV?”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t be a pain in the ass,” Kenma says with a flick of his fingers against Kuroo’s forehead, but his voice is fond. Kenma takes a deep breath and holds it, and Kuroo looks up to see what’s wrong. Kenma’s blushing hard at the wall, continuing to tug at Kuroo’s hair. “We could pretend to be on a date again.”

“That… That sounds like fun,” Kuroo says carefully, looking directly at Kenma’s eyes and the way his pupils dilate. “I mean, if you want to. It’s, like-- Whatever, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m just saying,” Kenma starts. It sounds casual but Kuroo can feel how tight Kenma’s stomach clenches from holding his breath. “Just saying…it was fun last time. It’s something to do. And if you’re bored with everything else… It’s up to you, though.”

“Yeah, I get it. It’s-- yeah.” Kuroo swallows hard. “I don’t mind if you don’t mind.”

Kenma finally looks at him again and his lips start to think out, cheeks becoming impossibly redder. He shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

-

Kuroo rearranges himself so that he’s lying side-by-side next to Kenma on his bed, their hands squeezed between their bodies. They’re both as stiff as ironing boards.

“So,” Kuroo eventually tries.

Kenma rolls his head over to look at Kuroo. The proximity leaves their lips practically touching. “Yeah?”

“This is a date.”

“Uh huh.”

“So should we, like…go somewhere?”

Kenma’s eyebrows furrow together in deep consideration. “Our first date was an outing, so it’s probably okay for us to stay in.”

“You just want to play the Switch,” Kuroo laughs.

Kenma laughs, chin tucking closer to his chest. He relaxes beside Kuroo, bumping a knee into Kuroo’s. “Maybe.”

-

They move to the living room, and Kuroo orders Chinese delivery while Kenma plays a single-player game. Kenma threatens to kill Kuroo if he spills any lo mein on his game console and refuses to touch dinner as long as he’s touching the controller. He also refuses, Kuroo conveniently points out, to stop playing, so Kenma opens his mouth and says, “feed me.” Kuroo ends up handfeeding sesame chicken and hot and spicy tofu to Kenma as he plays Breath of the Wild.

Kuroo manages to pull Kenma’s attention away from Link to play Mario Kart for a bit, but that descends into madness when Kenma whispers, “if you love me, let me win,” and shoots a blue shell at Kuroo’s Bowser, formerly cruising in first place.

-

“You let me win,” Kenma says bitterly, glaring at the TV.

“You told me to let you win,” Kuroo reminds.

“I said to let me win only if you--” Kenma swallows his words and the Waluigi he’s playing as drives off the course’s bridge. “You made me mess up.”

Kuroo’s so busy memorizing the way Kenma looks when he’s blushing that he doesn’t realize his Wario also dives off the bridge.

Kenma reaches out for Kuroo’s hand while his character is rescued from the depth of falling and holds it until Kuroo’s kart starts up again. “Now we match.”

-

After five tournaments of Kenma wiping the floor with Kuroo’s ass and two of them playing doubles, Kuroo yawns and Kenma suggests they watch something on Netflix.

“You wanna Netflix and chill?” Kuroo teases, wiggling his eyebrows up and down and then starts rubbing his hands down his body. “I knew you couldn’t resist all of this forever~”

“Stop making it weird,” Kenma says while throwing the remote at Kuroo’s face. “What kind of ice cream do you have?”

“Coffee and cookies and cream. Don’t touch the mint chocolate chip. That one’s Bokuto’s,” Kuroo calls out. He looks over the back of the couch to watch Kenma pad to the kitchen as if he owns the place and forces himself not to think about how he bought two pints of those flavors first thing after moving into the apartment, knowing they were his and Kenma’s favorites.

Kenma pauses to stare when he opens the fridge but pulls out the ice cream and retrieves two spoons. He offers Kuroo the coffee flavored one and starts digging into his ice cream with little kitten licks. Kuroo would tease him except he eats ice cream exactly the same way. “Bokuto doesn’t eat mango sorbet.”

“It’s _Akaashi’s,”_ Kuroo says a bit tauntingly, though any of the venom from earlier this week is nearly gone.

Kenma grins a little. “He and Bokuto are doing alright.”

“Tell me about it. Bokuto’s meeting the entire Akaashi clan right now. Wanna see pics?” He waves his phone teasingly.

“No,” Kenma says with a shake of his head. After a little bit, he adds, “You’ve already met my parents, so I guess that puts us ahead for once.”

“And you’ve met mine,” Kuroo adds.

“And they approve of me.”

“As do yours of me.”

Kuroo and Kenma grin at each other. Kenma steals the remote, but he presses himself against Kuroo while eating his ice cream.

-

Kenma puts on some anime spin-off of a video game he recently finished, and Kuroo doesn’t mind. They eat ice cream until the end of the first episode, and Kenma curls up against his chest by the end of the second episode, having dragged Kuroo’s comforter to snuggle in during the commercial break credits.

Kuroo holds his breath and forces himself to breath evenly with Kenma in his arms. They’re lying horizontally and Kenma’s spooned against his entire body. Kenma’s small, but not _that_ small, head pushed against Kuroo’s chin, and his toes sliding against Kuroo’s ankles and feet.

 _‘It’s a date,’_ Kuroo reminds himself, daring to let his arm ghost over Kenma’s shoulder down to his ribs. Kuroo settles his hand there, a bit awkwardly, but Kenma pulls on Kuroo’s wrist until his palm is settled on Kenma’s hip. It feel more comfortable there.

-

Eyes trained on the TV, Kenma snaps: “Don’t smile like that.”

“Smile like what?”

“Like that,” Kenma says again, kicking Kuroo in the shin with the ball of his foot. “You’re so obvious.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Kuroo practically whistles in feigned innocence. It doesn’t stop Kenma from threading his fingers between Kuroo’s.

-

Brotein Shake   
  
**Today** 10:29 PM  
**[From: Brotein Shake]** still good? me and AKAASHI are getting ready for bed, but i can come back if u need me to  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** go snuggle with ur bf. kenma came over so it’s fine.  
  
**[From: Brotein Shake]** OMFG  
  
**[From: Brotein Shake]** ARE U FUCKING KENMA BC THATS GROSS !!!  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** obviously not!!! i’m not u!!!!  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** and DUDE u have no right to tell me what’s gross or not gross after sending me that pic!!  
  
**[From: Brotein Shake]** that was all AKAASHI’s idea  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** i can’t believe ur bf is as nasty as u  
  
**[From: Brotein Shake]** u don’t even know how nasty he is  ;)  
  
**[To: Brotein Shake]** GOOD NIGHT BOKUTO  
  


-

“What did Koutarou want?” Kenma asks, trying to shift in place from where Kuroo’s spooning him to read the texts.

“Just being gross as usual.” Kuroo pockets his phone but it doesn’t kill Kenma’s curiosity, so Kuroo dares to see if kissing Kenma’s cheek will shut him up. As it so happens, it does.

-

Wine Mom   
  
**Today** 1:12 PM  
**[To: Wine Mom]** i know what u did  
  
**[From: Wine Mom]** I have no regrets.  
  
**[From: Wine Mom]** How are things going with Kozume-san?  
  
**[From: Wine Mom]** Getting any ideas?  ;)  
  
**[To: Wine Mom]** BOKUTO I KNOW THAT’S U  
  
**[From: Wine Mom]** Actually it was me. But it’s flattering to know you think I could pretend to be him.  
  
**[To: Wine Mom]** i’m 100% done with both of u  
  


“I hate Akaashi,” Kuroo grits out of his teeth.

“Me too,” Kenma says in a similar tone, glaring at his beeping cellphone.

-

Around midnight, Kuroo declares it’s time for bed and pulls Kenma off the couch by his legs. Clinging to the couch’s armrest, Kenma gives an admirable protest, but it’s all for naught. Kuroo ends up scooping Kenma in his arms and carrying him to the bedroom. It’s only when he’s getting ready to deposit Kenma on his mattress that he hesitates and realizes how awkward this is.

“Kuroo,” Kenma whispers, quietly and delicately, as he begins to loop his arms around Kuroo’s neck.

Intentionally or unintentionally, Kuroo accidentally drops Kenma on his mattress and none too softly. Kenma’s red face looks up at him, but Kuroo can’t tell if he’s blushing or glaring.

-

Kenma strips to his boxers and asks for one of Kuroo’s shirts because he hadn’t planned on staying over night, probably, or so Kuroo reasons. It’s not like their childhood where they can just run next door to grab spare clothes.

“I-I’m gonna take the shower first,” Kuroo stammers. He watches Kenma glare again as he bolts out and tells Kenma to grab whatever he wants from the dresser.

-

Kenma doesn’t complain about using Kuroo and Bokuto’s shared towel. It hasn’t been washed since they bought it a year ago, but Kenma doesn’t complain about that either, letting the wet towel drop to the carpet as he climbs into the bunk where Kuroo’s all tucked into. “Don’t offer me Bokuto’s bunk again.”

“It might be more comfortable,” Kuroo offers nervously. He doesn’t trust himself with Kenma smelling fresh like his soap and Bokuto’s shampoo. Kenma kneels onto the bed and Kuroo swallows at the dip of the mattress.

“It’s not.” And, before Kuroo can protest or wiggle closer to the wall, Kenma adds, “good boyfriends wouldn’t try to push their dates out of their bed.”

Kuroo can’t disagree when Kenma puts it like _that_. He makes room in the small bunk and holds his breath as Kenma crawls under the cave of sheets that Kuroo offers. “Kenma…”

“A date isn’t over until you give me a goodbye kiss,” Kenma reminds. Suddenly, he’s a lot closer than Kuroo remembers. Kuroo’s hand shakes as hard and swift as his heart’s beating, but he steadies it on Kenma’s hip, this time without prompting. Kenma hums and doesn’t protest.

 _“Kenma,”_ Kuroo tries again.

Kenma’s staring right into Kuroo’s eyes, they’re a breath apart, and Kenma’s close enough that he can feel Kenma’s heartbeat racing as quickly as his own. Kuroo expects his childhood friend to see that the façade has gone too far, but Kenma counters, “Tetsurou.”

“If you keep this up, I’m gonna kiss you,” Kuroo says, unsure if it’s a threat or a promise. Kenma nearly pushes a bit forward, dark eyelashes waiting expectantly. Kuroo grips Kenma’s hip harder and at Kenma’s annoyed sigh, he knows there’s no going back. Kuroo presses his lips to Kenma’s, and this time it doesn’t last a second or minute.

It’s soft and warm, with Kenma in his arms, and Kenma closes his eyes, moving his lips slowly against Kuroo’s. Kuroo can feel Kenma’s eyelashes flutter against his cheek when he closes his eyes, and Kenma’s the one to pull Kuroo’s hands lower than his hips. Kuroo clenches one full handful of Kenma Ass and earns a light sigh in response.

It’s like an invitation from that point, with Kenma pushing his tongue into Kuroo’s mouth, Kuroo hooking a leg over Kenma’s hip, and Kuroo hoping Kenma doesn’t pull away. Kenma, gloriously, doesn’t, wrapping both arms around Kuroo’s shoulders and tilting his mouth to better receive Kuroo’s lips. The next two kisses are not nearly as chaste as the first one, Kenma’s tongue roaming over Kuroo’s bottom lip, his molars, the back of his front teeth. Kuroo swallows around Kenma’s mouth and he’s lost, giving into the way Kenma shoves a knee between their legs and coaxes his tongue into a slow glide.

Kenma tugs at Kuroo’s shirt and Kuroo has half the mind to take it off, but Kenma pulls Kuroo back any time he tries to get enough space between them to take off the shirt. Neither speak, knowing the moment they do so, the magic coursing between their bodies will be over, so Kuroo flexes his stomach flexes where Kenma’s now grabbing at his abs, and he chases Kenma’s kitten tongue as best he can. He does his best to flex into it as Bokuto might, and adds a few kisses along the seam of Kenma’s mouth, sure to gather Kenma’s bottom lip to suck on it. Kenma moans into the motion and Kuroo loses a bit of himself, clutching at Kenma’s ass to satiate himself, unaware of how he’s pressing up against Kenma’s thigh or the way his eyes are blown just as much as Kenma’s.

“I don’t…” Kenma swallows. “Kuroo.”

“Don’t what?” Kuroo begins to ask, pushing up against Kenma, but he shuts his mouth and swallows it. Kenma whines against him, but Kuroo parts away, trying his best not to show how much more he wants. “It’s okay. It’s still a good date.”

Kenma glares at Kuroo but finally relents, eyelashes downcast, bottom lip thick, and his cheeks red. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Kuroo assures. He kisses Kenma again, this time chastely, chasing his lips as if it’s the last time he ever will, and breathes against him.

Kenma breathes back. “If this isn’t real…”

“It is,” Kuroo assures, “but if it’s not for you, then I--”

“It is,” Kenma repeats, but he still pulls away. “I want to, but…”

“Not right now?” Kuroo guesses. Kenma nods, and to his disbelief, Kuroos rubs his thumb against Kenma’s lower lip instead of his cheek. “Me too. -- I mean, I want to. But not like this.”

“Yeah?” Kenma’s a bit breathless against Kuroo’s lips, but his hand shoves up to Kuroo’s shoulder, gripping him tight, and he moves his thighs against where Kuroo has them clamped.

It makes them both painfully aware of how they’re physically reacting, even if there’s a hell of a lot more tension between their faces than anywhere else below the neck. “I want it to be for real from the start when we do this again.”

“Okay,” Kenma finally breathes, breaking away from Kuroo with one, two, three kisses. His pupils are dilated and Kuroo can still feel Kenma against him, but he breathes in deeply and wills himself down, wanting this to be more than an in-the-moment makeout.

“Cool,” Kuroo says, still a bit hard and pressed against Kenma. He locks Kenma’s legs in with his, but Kenma says nothing in protest, in actuality burrowing closer. “This okay for tonight?”

“Yeah,” Kenma says, hoarsely, but as Kuroo digs his face into Kenma’s neck, his breathing hitches. “This is good.”

Kuroo breathes against Kenma, and Kenma breathes against Kuroo. Their hearts beat in time with each other.

-

“You still owe me a goodnight kiss,” Kenma reminds. His face is buried in Kuroo’s neck and pressing against it like he’s a cat, all but purring. His hair tickles Kuroo, squirms but does little to roll away. He can’t see Kenma smiling, but he can feel it against his neck. Kenma continues to unapologetically nuzzle his face into Kuroo’s ticklish spot, demanding, “right now.”

“Okay! Okay,” Kuroo promises a bit breathlessly from laughter, “just-- hang on.”

“No,” Kenma teases. He continues to toss his head and make Kuroo laugh, at least until Kuroo retaliates by pushing Kenma on his back and laying on him where Kenma can’t move like he used to when they were kids. Kenma lets out a huff, and Kuroo can feel his ribs pushing against Kuroo’s weight. “You’re heavy.”

“Mm.” Kuroo ducks his face into Kenma’s neck, trying to tickle Kenma the say way Kenma had tickled him, but Kenma’s not ticklish, so Kuroo pushes up to his elbows, pouting. “Damn.”

“Too bad,” Kenma agrees, but his eyes are sharp and smug. Kuroo can’t bother to be cared when Kenma looks adorable like that.

They smile at each other peacefully until Kuroo starts biting his bottom lip to stop himself from kissing Kenma again. They share a breath, looking at each other. “You sure…?”

“Yes,” Kenma says, pulling Kuroo closer by his shirt.

It feels like both an eternity and an instant, but Kuroo dips down to kiss Kenma on the cheek, as if they were teenagers out of a romcom, even though it’s clear they’re past such things. Kenma doesn’t look angry when he pulls away though, smiling softly and eyes darting around Kuroo’s face in search of something.

Kuroo coughs a bit awkward, collapsing on his stomach besides Kenma with a heavy. “Ready for bed?”

“Yeah,” Kenma says, helpfully offering Kuroo a pillow to smooch against his hair. Kuroo offers one of his two pillows to Kenma, but Kenma shakes his head, instead curling up against Kuroo and using Kuroo’s shoulder and arm as his pillow.

As Kuroo closes his eyes, he thinks he could get used to this, this whole none-of-Bokuto’s-snoring and Kenma-pressed-against-him thing. He’s about to drift to sleep, breath evening out, when he feels Kenma’s breath against his ear and a whispered, “I love you, Kuroo.”

Kuroo smile is broad and happy when he tilts his face past the pillows to peck Kenma on the mouth chastely. “There’s your goodnight kiss.”

Kenma blinks a few times and seems to frown, which isn’t Kuroo’s expected reaction, but Kenma closes his eyes and snuggles up, so Kuroo assumes it must be okay.

-

Kuroo’s lived with Bokuto long enough that he has trouble sleeping without the steady rhythm of Bokuto’s snores. Kenma’s snoring isn’t nearly as loud, but it makes a perfect substitution when he’s curled against Kuroo like this.


	7. Day six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if ao3 gives you notifs every time i edit this (sorry if it does bc i am a serial edits-er!), but i formatted iOS, added some emoji, and will be adding more emoji as well as reformatting the texts to read legible with creator's style off. sorry about the delay, just have a lot on my plate rn! but i definitely haven't forgotten this fic c:

Kenma’s the first one to get out of bed, but Kuroo’s the first one to wake up. He holds his breath and blinks once, twice and pinches himself to make sure this is real. Kenma’s still there, still curled up in his arms, so it must be. Kuroo squeezes him and notices that Kenma’s breath hitches a little bit. Kuroo pretends not to notice and Kenma pretends to still be asleep, so they doze for an hour more.

-

“Kuroo,” Kenma says, kicking Kuroo’s shin when it’s obvious they’re both awake. “Time to get up.”

“Five minutes more,” Kuroo drawls as best he can in his sleepy voice, though it’s close to afternoon and they both know he’s awake. Kuroo digs his chin into the top of Kenma’s head anyway, just because he can.

“I’m hungry.” Kenma kicks back and Kuroo wraps an arm around Kenma to still his waist. They continue to tug and lightly wrestle in Kuroo’s bunk, a situation Middle School Kuroo’ thought no more than fantasy. (One of the top five, to be precise.) Through the soft huffs and little breaths, Kenma ends up on top of Kuroo, pinning down his wrists and sitting on Kuroo’s hips. Kuroo watches as they slowly come to realize their position, Kenma’s pupils becoming wide and darker by the second.

“Eggs?” Kuroo asks in a small, choked voice.

Kenma sighs in something that sounds like disappointment, rolling off of Kuroo. “Eggs.”

-

Eggs? Eggs.

Some ‘okay,’ that was. Kuroo’s a real John Green.

Kuroo glares at the egg whites bubbling and popping in the pan and at how the yolk gushes from the perfect dome he tried to cook. He meant to make Kenma’s favorite sunny-side up eggs, but the yolk bursts and Kuroo starts to mash it into scrambled eggs. He internally kicks himself for fucking up. Why did he have to bring up eggs?

-

Kenma looks over and scowls at Kuroo’s pan when he sees the scramble, and he pushes Kuroo aside. “Let me do this. You go make the toast.”

-

They split Kuroo’s ruined scrambled eggs between them, and Kenma makes a sunny-side up egg for them both. Kuroo’s dreamed of this very domestic fantasy, and yet something in the pit of his stomach doesn’t sit right. His eyes remain trained on his plate, and when he looks to Kenma, it’s only to watch as Kenma breaks the yolk and dips his eggs in it. Kuroo swallows thickly, not tasting the egg. “Sorry about the eggs.”

“It’s fine,” Kenma says. His toast hovers in the air as he’s about to take a bite, but he stops, eyes flickering over Kuroo. “That’s what we’re supposed to do, right? Help each other out with weaknesses? You always ruin eggs.”

“I don’t always ruin them!” Kuroo insists, blushing so hard that he feels like his ears are on fire. Kenma smirks and takes a bite of his toast, raising a brow. Kuroo may internally accept defeat, but externally, he looks away, pouting, arm leaned on table and cheek leaned on hand. He can feel Kenma’s stare on him and knows it’s only a matter of time before he cracks. “Fine! I can’t cook eggs. So what?”

“Nothing,” Kenma says with a tiny smirk. “It’s cute.”

Kuroo hums, this time burying his face in his hand in the hopes Kenma doesn’t see how hard he’s blushing. _Cute._ Kenma’s saying he’s cute, even now.

When he looks up through his bangs, he wonders if Kenma sees through him and why he looks so expectant. Kuroo would ask why, but his throat is choked and he doesn’t trust his voice. His eyes flicker away, wondering what they are other than two people who obviously like each other.

-

By the end of breakfast, Kenma’s face has all the tell-tale signs and lines of annoyance, though Kuroo can’t figure out for the life of him why. He bites his bottom lip and considers what he could do to fix this, although nothing’s coming to mind. “Want to play more of the Switch until Bokuto gets back?”

“No,” Kenma says, collecting his and Kuroo’s plates and dropping them into the sink. He immediately marches to the living room and starts unplugging the Switch’s cords and rearranging them for Bokuto’s refurbished DVR player. “I want to go home now.”

-

‘N-G-L,’ Kuroo spells out in his brain, ‘this sucks.’

He may have been friends with Kenma for over two-thirds of his life, but that doesn’t mean he knows what Kenma’s thinking at any given second. Between their senior and freshman years, they’ve survived two years without each other from primary school to high school, yet Kuroo feels as if he doesn’t know this Kenma at all. The Kenma he knows wouldn’t want to leave so immediately.

Kuroo dares to reach out for Kenma’s hand as he’s playing a game, and surprisingly Kenma doesn’t push him away. Kenma eyes Kuroo out of the side of his eye and only says, “we’re in public.”

“Nobody’s watching,” Kuroo promises, immediately snatching one of Kenma’s hands and ducking their joined hands beneath Kenma’s backpack. “And even if they are, now they can’t see.”

Kenma blushes as Kuroo leers all too proudly. “I can’t play my game like this.”

“You’ll survive.”

Kenma rolls his eyes and snaps the DS into sleep mode. He stuffs it with some difficulty -- until Kuroo helps open his zipper and hold the bag open -- into his messenger bag. This time Kenma pulls out his phone and Kuroo notices that it only takes one hand to play.

-

“So,” Kuroo says a bit purposefully, but Kenma doesn’t appear amused at all.

“So.” Kenma repeats it while looking at the ground, and it makes Kuroo’s heart go pitter-patter at the same time it sinks to the floor. “This is goodbye?”

“Guess so.” Kuroo’s gaze flickers from their feet to Kenma’s face and repeats before his face lights up, cheeks slightly glossy with a blush when he gushes, “oh right!” and leans in to kiss Kenma goodbye.

Kenma leans away, warily watching Kuroo’s every movement. “Do you really want to?”

“As if you need to ask,” Kuroo says a bit more emphatically than it needs to be. His nerves get the better of him and he ends up spitting out a teasing rebuff out of instinct: “But isn’t it more like _you_ who wants to kiss _me?”_

Though Kuroo’s brilliant answer seems radiant, positive, and absolutely affirming in his own mind, it only brings a scowl to Kenma’s face. Before he knows it, Kenma slams the door in his face with a spiteful, “nevermind.”

Kuroo blinks at the door again, wondering what he did to deserve this.

-

By the time Kuroo gets home, it feels like Kenma has stuck a million needles into a Kuroo voo doo doll, and the radiant smile from Bokuto he’s met with only makes him all the more bitter. “Yo, Kuroo! Wassup?”

Bokuto happily waves a pack of beer in either hand while grinning brightly, and Kuroo wishes he was hungover so that he had a reason to say Bokuto’s smile was obnoxious without sounding petty. But he was perfectly sober, and Kuroo wasn’t about to fight Bokuto’s happiness. “Hey.”

“Bro night?” Bokuto asks, a bit more softly, his eyes tracking Kuroo’s every movement.

As Kuroo slumps into his shitty couch with all the energy he can muster and a big sigh, he says, “Sure.”

One of Bokuto’s best and worst character traits has always been being too damn perceptive for his own good, and Bokuto’s already shaking his head. “No, dude, this is serious. _Day drinking.”_

-

“I just don’t get it,” Kuroo wails in a high-pitched, breathy screech, “‘cause things were going so well!”

Bokuto snorts and tips his can of beer against Kuroo’s so hard that it causes indents in their aluminum. “Yeah, because messing up your eggs was going _so_ well.”

“Hey, at least I tried,” Kuroo insists, glaring.

Bokuto puckers up his lips while his head shakes side-to-side, and he lifts a single finger to copy the motion. “Whenever I say I tried and it doesn’t work out, Akaashi reminds me I have to try harder! So maybe the eggs are your Akaashi?”

“That makes no sense,” Kuroo says while slapping his buddy on the shoulder. He initially spits the little bit of beer in his mouth into the can but ends up laughing. “But I love you!”

“I love you too,” Bokuto assures, leaning his head on Kuroo’s shoulder. Kuroo preens like a bird, although he knows himself to be a cat, and he cracks up thinking of how if he was a cat, he’d totally be comfortable enough to groom Bokuto, as Bokuto nuzzles his cheek against Kuroo. With all the slyness and subtlety of a big cat, Bokuto lays a paw on Kuroo’s arm and purrs, “you know what _does_ make sense?”

Kuroo knows from experience that tone can only mean one thing:

 _“Drunk grocery shopping,”_ Kuroo breathes in an erotic purr. “Hell yes.”

They clink their beer cans together in cheers.

-

A packet of frozen broritos, some brozen brogurt, one pepperbroni pizza, three flavors of brotato chips, and two microwavable cups of macabroni and cheese later, Kuroo is convinced this is the best idea Bokuto has had since they went drunk grocery shopping last year and got kicked out of their favorite Inageya. They’ve only had one fuck up so far, and it’s when he mustered all the disapproving energy in his body when Bokuto glared at him for putting Jack Daniels in the cart.

“It’s not allowed if you can’t make a bro pun out of it,” Bokuto reminds.

“Bro. Jack Daniels is the broest of bros,” Kuroo argues.

They both cross their arms across their chests, glaring at each other, and after a second, both throwing their hands back laughing, saying at the same time: “brooze!”

-

Dumping the three bottles of discounted brosé and the bottle of Jack into the cart, Bokuto raises his eyebrow and totally says, “I can push you faster in this cart than you can push me.”

Of course, Kuroo can’t back down from a challenge.

-

Bokuto manages to speed Kuroo up and down the meats and cheese aisles twice and zig-zag through the veggies and canned goods aisles once before an attendant asks him to keep calm and observe the store’s rules. Honestly, it’s all Kuroo to thank, who sweet talks the attendant from kicking them out with his gorgeous eyes and long lashes, but is Bokuto thankful at all? No. He just rolls into the frozen foods aisle with a grin. _“Dude,_ we were sooo close to getting kicked out!”

“Nah,” Kuroo says from where he’s curled up in the cart. He flashes Bokuto a mischievous grin. “Bet I can’t push you longer before we’re kicked out.”

Kuroo sees the fire in Bokuto’s eyes and knows he’s won.

-

Bokuto screams his head off as Kuroo runs through the aisles with Bokuto latched in the cart for dear life. It’s exhilarating and wrong and everything Kuroo needs, eventually throwing back his head to scream in joy with Bokuto.

-

They get asked to leave right before Kuroo swerves into the vegetable section, but at least they get to pay for their groceries. Kuroo winks at the girl who both asked them to leave and scanned their items, but Bokuto hip checks him, angrily growling, “not cool, bro! _Kenma.”_

-

They hightail it home and each crack open a bottle of brosé, both clicking the mouths of the bottles together and shamelessly gulping from the bottles as they wait for the nightlife to turn up. Bokuto turns on a semi-pro volleyball game while they sit around eating bro snacks, drinking cheap, manly wine, and playing poker, everything Kuroo’s missed and wanted for the past week..

“Drink every time that wing spiker hits an awesome ace serve,” Bokuto says, paying more attention to the game than to his hand. It’s all good to Kuroo; Bokuto doesn’t have a poker face anyway, and Kuroo knows he had a bad hand from the frown he was sporting, so he’s just glad to see his bro in good spirits.

“That’s not how drinking games work, dude,” Kuroo reminds. He reveals his hand and Bokuto petulantly throws his cards at him with a grave frown, muttering a curse under his breath. Kuroo reaps the chips they’re using as household chores markers and deals the next hand. “You’re supposed to drink any time somebody messes up. That’s what makes it fun.”

“That’s dumb,” is all Bokuto says before taking another chug of the wine. “Why watch volleyball if you’re only waiting for them to make a mistake? And everybody is trying their hardest out there, so it’s wrong to hope they lose.”

“Kinda missing the point.” Kuroo glances at his hand and watches for Bokuto’s reaction, which consists of a smile like he’s hit the jackpot and rearranging his hand in order. Kuroo can tell by how he places his cards together that he at least has two pairs, and Kuroo folds.

“Aww, my hand was good that time. I almost had you!” Bokuto whines, slamming down his full house.

“I’m psychic,” Kuroo teases, but he knows fully well that Bokuto still believes that he is whenever they play poker.

Before Kuroo deals the next round, Bokuto slams his bottle down so hard that some wine spills out, but Bokuto is all grins. “There it is! There’s that serve again!”

Even though he protested the rules, Kuroo offers his bottle in salutations. “Drink.”

-

The game quietly playing on the TV is only semi-pro, and while it’s not too exciting as watching pro or international league matches, it has Kuroo standing up abruptly after an amazing play. It’s either the alcohol or the alcohol (probably the alcohol) that tells his brain he can totally recreate that move in their tiny apartment.

“Bet I can do that sweet block.”

“Bet you can’t!” Bokuto yells out, immediately dashing into their bedroom closet, where they keep the balls. Bokuto doesn’t even warn him before spiking it straight into Kuroo’s face and Kuroo barely has enough time to slam the ball into their wall, leaving a nice, new indent to match the one from the other day, before it hits his face. It doesn’t matter to Bokuto -- and heck, it doesn’t really matter to Kuroo either, by how much he hates their landlord -- who immediately breaks out into a taunt. “Where’s that sweet block, huh?”

“You can’t just slam balls at my face! Think about what Akaashi would say!”

“That doesn’t mean the same thing and you know it!” Bokuto insists, but he’s already laughing. Between the alcohol and the laughing, he’s unsteady on his feet and slumps against Kuroo, who’s laughing just as hard. This time when their door pounds, neither of them answer it.

-

Around five, with still some hours to go, Kuroo busts out the craps mat and starts to set up the the roulette spinner he and Bokuto made with an empty gallon container, some red and black sharpies, and a can opener that Yaku should not have let them borrow.

Bokuto’s mostly settled, quietly watching the game for once, his cheeks just a hint rosy, and clenching his fist whenever there’s a nice play. “Gonna be done setting up any time soon?”

“Yeah, yeah. I roll first, so blow me,” Kuroo teases, giggling with the oncoming haze clouding his head, and offers the dice in his hand to Bokuto’s mouth.

Bokuto takes a deep breath and leans in, but just as he’s about to blow on the dice for good luck, he looks up. His face is scrunched up like he’s in thought, even though it’s just Kuroo he’s looking at. “I don’t know, man, I don’t think Akaashi would like that.”

“They’re just dice,” Kuroo says even as the laughter in him begins to fade and the urge to scream takes over. He shakes the dice in his hands to make his point clear. “It’s no big deal. Akaashi gets it.”

“Yeah, but,” and Bokuto’s face goes from scrunched to clear within seconds. _“Dude._ I think I get it. It’s not even about Akaashi, it’s about me. I don’t think I want to blow you anymore, hypothetically or not.”

“Oh.” It’s just a small sound, nothing more than a puff of air, but Kuroo lowers his hand. “But it’s because of Akaashi, right?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto says as honestly and sincerely as he does everything else. He blinks a few more times as the realization sets in, as shocking to himself as it is to Kuroo. “I love him. Like, I seriously love him.”

“I’m glad for you, bro,” Kuroo says, finding that he actually means it; he’s always wanted Bokuto to be happy, and if Akaashi’s what makes him happy, then Akaashi makes him happy. Kuroo blows on his own dice, cups his hands together to shake the dice, and rolls them on the mat. There’s not even a need for their shitty roulette disc, but it Kuroo feel fancy, like a memory of simpler times when Bokuto would blow on his dice. “But you’d still sleep with me if we were the last human beings on the Earth and deserted on an island, right?”

Bokuto snatches the dice up as Kuroo tallies his points and blows on them, mirroring Kuroo’s lucky dice shake. _“Duh_. Who else would I have my first homo experience with?”

-

Bokuto trips while tying his shoes, landing clumsily on Kuroo’s back, and Kuroo pushes him off with a laugh. His laughter already shows how buzzed-borderlining-on-drunk he is and Bokuto’s weight feels lighter against his shoulder than usual. “What the hell, bro?”

“I just realized something really tragic!” Bokuto wails dramatically, and Bokuto must be buzzed too because he doesn’t even wait for Kuroo to ask what exactly is so tragic. “Now that I’m dating Akaashi, you can’t be my first homo experience!”

“Dude, it’s fine,” Kuroo says seriously, clapping Bokuto on the shoulder and leading him out. “I’ll be your first _bromo_ experience.”

-

Bokuto’s in the mood for pool, so they make their way to the pool hall a few blocks down the road. As shitty as the landlord and the neighbors are and as tiny as the apartment is for as much as they’re paying, it’s prime real estate. Kuroo can’t complain when he feels this good, his body light from the booze and the breeze feeling fresh against his face. All that’s missing is a certain childhood friend who, when he’s this buzzed to let himself entertain the idea, might just be a lot more than that.

-

Kuroo’s not really paying attention when he slides enough money to rent a table for thirty minutes, but then again, he doesn’t remember a lot about this night in retrospect starting around now. He remembers the girl at the register smiling at him in a pure, girly kind of way, he remembers Bokuto jabbing his elbow, and he remembers Bokuto grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him to the table. For the life of him, he can’t remember why.

-

Kuroo remembers other things about that night; he remembers Bokuto creaming his ass at pool three times in a row, always awesome at hitting the balls, even if he’s not aiming for any pocket in particular. He also remembers Bokuto glancing at his and Kuroo’s phone, which they always keep out of their pockets and face down on the billiards rail whenever they play.

As Kuroo’s sobering up and taking his next shot, he sees Bokuto’s forlorn expression, longing in the direction of his phone as though it’s tragically beyond his reach, and it’s so pathetic that Kuroo misses the ball he was aiming for. “Oh my god, just text your boyfriend already.”

“You don’t mind?” Bokuto asks, though his tone is dripping with, ‘yes please,’ rather than, ‘may I have your permission?’

Kuroo rolls his eyes and nods. “C’mon, let’s take a selfie for your _boyfriend.”_

-

Of all of Bokuto’s talents -- spiking volleyballs, drinking people twice his size under the table, forgetting to do his taxes -- his selfie game is the most impressive. On Bokuto’s phone, he and Kuroo are winking at the camera, faces tastefully turned three-fourths of the way, sparkly filter on, and eyes seductively hooded. Bokuto quickly types out “PUTTING BALLS IN HOLES!!!!” and adds a string of emojis, of course including at least three eggplants and five sweaties. Even with the ridiculous geofilter and the nonsense emojis, they look good. Even if Akaashi’s not impressed, Kuroo sure as hell is. He wants to look like how he looks in Bokuto’s selfies every day of his life, and his alcohol-addelled brain thinks somebody else might like to see it too.

“Send it to me too.”

-

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 7:47 PM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** attached: LOLLLLl.jpg  
  


Kuroo clicks the send button without thinking anything of it and he happily places his phone upside down on the ledge of the table. Bokuto’s already put his down, but it’s rightside up. Kuroo lets it pass; he’s pretty sure there’s a rule in the Bro Code that says texting boyfriends or girlfriends is allowed during Bro Time, and if there’s not, then he thinks there definitely should be.

-

 _“Sooooo_ … You texting Kenma?” Bokuto asks, hitting the purple four ball into a pocket. He wasn’t even aiming at it, but Kuroo supposes it’s no surprise, considering Bokuto has discovered his secret talent for pocketing balls lately. “How’d that go, by the way? If he stayed over, you did something right the night before, right? You didn’t say anything about that.”

“I don’t even know,” Kuroo admits, deflating on the table with a big sigh.

“Hey, be careful! I was about to sink another one!”

“Your bro takes precedence over your balls,” Kuroo reminds, and Bokuto rolls his eyes. Either Bokuto is really drunk or Kuroo is truly that pitiful right now, because Bokuto doesn’t even point out how the balls have to be attached to their bodies for that rule to be in effect. There were too many dark times they’d negotiated this rule, and both of them knew it by heart.

“Hey, hey. What’s with the long face? Couldn’t have been that bad,” Bokuto assures. He makes his way to the other side of the table, clapping Kuroo on the back. “You’re awesome! No way Kenma could resist you, I bet.”

Kuroo merely groans. He tilts his head to barely face Bokuto, sighing wistfully. “Why couldn’t we gay fall in love and move to Canada and adopt three Chinese babies? Things would be so much simpler.”

“But then I would have never met Akaashi,” Bokuto says in a tone that sounds way too grown-up for the Bokuto Koutarou that Kuroo knows. Kuroo momentarily wonders when Bokuto became the relationship guru, but the thought fades as Bokuto starts playing with the short hairs at the base of his neck. It doesn’t last long, as does anything in Kuroo’s life lately, and soon Bokuto’s peeling Kuroo off the table and tugging him upright. “And you would be forever wondering, ‘what could we have been?’ with Kenma! Seriously, dude, what happened? You can tell me.”

“Things were going really good. He came over and we played video games and ate ice cream and did the whole Netflix and chill.”

“Netflix and chill always works,” Bokuto says back in a serious tone. “Personally, Akaashi and I like to Skin flicks and chill, but it’s the same idea.”

“Okay, that’s nice, but this is about _me_. So I was _saying_ , everything was going fine. I ordered the lo mein he likes from that one place and everything!”

“And _then?”_ Bokuto prompts, because there’s always an, ‘and then.’

“We… We did laundry,” Kuroo confesses.

“No way! For real!?” Bokuto squeaks. Before Kuroo can nod, Bokuto holds up a hand, shaking his head side-to-side. “Wait. Wait. When you say ‘laundry,’ do you mean laundry or do you mean _laundry.”_

“I mean we went downstairs and did the laundry!” Kuroo says, but Bokuto continues to stare in that blank way that makes Kuroo want to scream louder by the second. “I mean clothes.”

“So like…taking clothes off, or…?”

“Oh my god, did Akaashi make your brain stupider or something? _No!_ We literally went downstairs to our crappy basement and I shoved my clothes in the washer and we sorted them on the couch just like you and Akaashi did.”

“Not cool, copying us like that,” Bokuto huffs, leaning his pool stick aside to cross his arms, “but go on.”

“And then…we started making out, yeah. It was good, really good.”

“Sounds like a _date,”_ Bokuto says coyly in his I-told-you-mayo-and-raddish-sandwiches-are-delicious voice, complete with waggling eyebrows.

But it’s what Bokuto’s saying more than how he’s saying it that has Kuroo all flustered. He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly finding interest in his shoes. “Er, yeah, about that…”

“Duuuuuuude. It _was_ a date,” Bokuto breathes. His face lights up and he grabs both of Kuroo’s shoulders, shaking him back and forth in congratulations. “Good job! I knew you had it in you! So are you two a thing yet? I don’t mean to nag, but Akaashi’s really been riding my ass about it -- metaphorically, I mean. Not so metaphorically about other stuff, but you get the point.”

Kuroo’s delicate feelings are too pure to even acknowledge Bokuto oversharing about the sex life he has that’s so fantastic while Kuroo’s balls are so blue they might as well belong to Jack Frost. “No, no. I mean, _yes_. It _was_ a date, but it was… It was just pretend. -- But only at first! When we started kissing and things started to heat up, I told him I didn’t want to do anything if it wasn’t real, and he said the same thing, so we stopped… But I know now. We both want this.”

Bokuto nods, arms still crossed but watching Kuroo with a proud look in his eye. “Cool, so he loves you and you love him?”

“Yes,” Kuroo says in relief. His body threatens to shake and collapse when he says it out loud, but it’s _true_. “Yeah, he confessed and it was-- it was really special.”

“You get a really gross look on your face when you start thinking about Kenma, but it sounds like a good time,” Bokuto says good naturedly. It wouldn’t be Bokuto without a little quip, and Kuroo loves it. “What’d he say when you confessed back?”

Kuroo’s eyebrows wrinkle. Between the booze and the mixed feelings of the exhilarating evening and the confusing morning, it makes it hard to remember. “He… Oh god.”

“What? Did you fart?” Sometimes Kuroo hates Bokuto and the things that come out of his mouth, especially when Bokuto looks so sincere about it. “‘Cause it’s not that big of a deal. It’s weird at first, but you get over it. Whenever Akaashi farts, I just kick him out of the covers and--”

“I didn’t fart!” Kuroo bursts, as loud as if he were a volcano errupting. He catches himself and holds his breath, now whispering harshly, “I didn’t do it! I didn’t-- _Shit_. What do I do?”

“Uh, well first you start making sense…”

“I didn’t say it back!” Kuroo practically screams, which captures the attention of everybody else in the pool.

 _“Noooooo,”_ Bokuto whispers back in his his most dramatic, unbelieving voice. Kuroo, unfortunately, is nodding his head, one breath away from having a full blown panic attack in front of twenty strangers. “Dude! You didn’t! How do you blow a moment like that?”

“I don’t _know!_ I didn’t think about it. I was so-- I couldn’t believe it was _real._ He was so beautiful like that, I guess I just forgot?” Kuroo’s hands are scratching at his hair that for once doesn’t look as shitty as he feels. “Shit, shit, _shit!”_

“Hey, man, it’s gonna be okay,” Bokuto tries to assure, once Kuroo begins pacing back and forth until he swears there’s going to be a dip in the floor from it. “It’s Kenma. You’ve known each other since you were in diapers.”

Kuroo’s not listening to him, too busy wrapt in his own thoughts. “No wonder he slammed the door in my face! God, he probably thinks I’m an asshole.”

Kuroo manages to catch just a glimpse of Bokuto shrugging out of the corner of his eye. “Well you are a bit of an asshole.”

 _“Not helping,_ bro.” Kuroo finally lets out the yell he’d been keeping in and all the eyes are back on him as Kuroo falls face-first into one of the couches along the wall.

Bokuto follows him, crouching so that he’s eye-level at Kuroo, and begins petting his back like Kuroo’s mother used to do whenever Kuroo cried because Kenma couldn’t come out to play. “Calm down! If Kenma really loves you, then he knows you’ve been an ass for years and he’s probably used to it. Maybe he waited to confess for so long because he expected it? Something like that.”

Kuroo screams, but at least this time he has the decency to scream into the couch’s armrest.

-

Twenty minutes later, Kuroo’s buzz is ruined, his blood pressure is officially pumping at twice a physician’s recommended speed, and Bokuto’s rocking him back and forth as if he was a baby, Kuroo all but sobbing in his freakishly large biceps that Kuroo would appreciate if it were any other situation than his romantic life crashing and burning right in front of his eyes.

-

Despite the past week of boyfriend hell, Kuroo has to admit that nothing compares to Bokuto’s aggressive cuddling. Kuroo stops sniffling five minutes later, at least enough to where he can appreciate how Bokuto gives the stink face to anybody who looks at two grown men cuddling in public or anybody who tries to steal their table. Besides, Bokuto’s cuddles are the best thing in the world. Not that Kuroo ever had a gay thought about his best bro (ever), but Akaashi is one lucky guy to get to snuggle up to all of Bokuto’s heat and muscle every day.

When Kuroo’s shaking calms down enough that he stops hearing the color white and tasting shivering in his mouth, Bokuto finally talks to him. “Wanna call Kenma? I’m sure he’d understand.”

“No! That’s the last thing I want to do right now!” Kuroo loudly cries, fisting both hands into Bokuto’s shirt. “You think I can face him after fucking up that badly?”

Bokuto frowns, and it’s a bit in frustration though Kuroo knows he’s trying to be sympathetic. “Well, then what do you wanna do now?”

Kuroo releases him and falls back-first onto the couch, as though if he waits long enough, he can become one with the couch. “I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole.”

“Sorry, we’re fresh out of that. Anything else I can do for you?”

“I want to get shitfaced,” Kuroo pitifully moans.

“This seriously goes against any healthy coping mechanism or communication advice Dr. Phil suggests,” Bokuto warns with a playful grin, “but I can help you do that, bro.”

-

Honestly that’s when things get fuzzy. It’s a blacked-out blur, but he’s pretty sure it ruled, not that Kuroo knew all of Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream deluxe CD by heart or anything. He doesn’t even remember the bar, but he does remember Bokuto laughing about his tongue being blue, so he figures there must have been a bar and two or five adios motherfuckers.

Kuroo’s wobbly by the time he realizes where he is, waking up from being passed out on a karaoke box couch, his face all too hot and dizzy and wow, there’s the girl from the pool hall again. He feels her thighs beneath his ears and tries to shake his head, but that’s not good because then the whole world is topsy-turvy and threatening to make him puke or pass out again, whichever comes first.

‘I need to go,’ he wants to say, but what he ends up slurring is, “I’m gonna die alone.”

“You’re not gonna die alone,” she promises him, brushing back his bangs, and beginning to lean down. “If you want, you don’t have to be lonely tonight…”

“B-Bokuto!” Kuroo moans as loudly as he can, rolling off her in a last ditch effort. He lands face-first on the floor, and it’s only then that he notices the song playing sounds a lot like Bokuto. The only sober thought to enter his brain is that he sings Alanis Morissette a lot better when he’s not belting out her songs in anger, but he really wishes his last piece of sobriety could have done something useful. Like tell him how to get home, for example.

Kuroo stumbles to his feet, reaching out twice for the table in the booth before steadying himself, and the pool girl is back on him, her hand crawling up his stomach and chest. She doesn’t touch him beneath his shirt, but he still feels sick, especially when she tries to play off an attempt at a kiss as helping him up.

 _“Brooooooooooo,”_ Kuroo pathetically moans, but at least this time the music stops and the sound of crashing behind him sounds familiar. Then, it’s Bokuto’s biceps -- he’d recognize them no matter how drunk he is -- hoisting him up and out of the karaoke box.

“Yo, what the hell!?” Bokuto roars, and Kuroo’s so out of it, he can’t tell if that’s directed at him or the girl. He just knows the world is spinning and there are six strangers watching Bokuto drag him out. He’s barely on his feet as Bokuto pushes him out of the karaoke bar, his head spinning so much that the neon lights look like smears of light. “Dude, we’re going home now. I told you to take it slow! I was helping you get shitfaced, not alcohol poisoning! You did those shots in the bathroom, didn’t you? I told you not to fuck around with tequila.”

“No,” he manages, though it’s pathetic. Bokuto sounds angry, though he’s still too out of it to figure out why. Bokuto’s not angry a lot. Kuroo doesn’t like it when Bokuto’s angry.

“No _what?_ No, you didn’t take three tequila shots one after another like a moron? No, you’re not a total pain in my ass sometimes? Which is it?”

 _“No,”_ Kuroo tries again, just as Bokuto’s pushing him up against a wall. Kuroo feels the breeze and opens the eyes -- he didn’t even realize they were closed -- and his head lolls forward. Bokuto’s yelling on the phone a few paces away, and all the cars look blurry.

“Shit. I’m-- I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, okay? But if I knew you were gonna pass out in the middle of karaoke, I would have taken you home a lot earlier,” Bokuto says, waving his cellphone. Kuroo laughs and sighs softly, unsure why. It just looks funny, Bokuto as blurry as all the lights. “Are you listening, Kuroo?”

Kuroo does his best to say, “uh huh,” but it comes out in a grunt. Bokuto’s sighing as he smacks his phone against his ear again, chewing his bottom lip as if it’s a snack.

“Just stay _put_ , Kuroo,” Kuroo thinks he remembers hearing, though he’s not certain. “Akaashi’s on his way, but he’s having some trouble finding us.”

Kuroo conks his head against the solid wall and sighs, this time consciously closing his eyes. He really fucked up if _Bokuto_ is mad at him. He’s really winning at this life thing lately, huh? He groans and begins to stand from where he’s slumped over. He’s pretty sure he’s fucked up the two most important relationships he’s cared about in the past twenty-four hours, and he doesn’t want to be a bother anymore. If he’s not here, then Bokuto can’t be mad at him, right? At least that’s what his drunk logic tells him as he miraculously manages to wait for the walking signal to cross the street.

He’s not sure when he pulled his phone out or when he gagged, but Kenma’s contact is up and his mouth tastes like puke when he realizes himself at the fence of a small park. He smiles at the picture of him and Kenma from their first pretend date, now that moment of holding hands and Kenma’s small smile feeling like an eternity ago, as he stumbles into the park, barely catching onto a swing chain and slumps into the seat. It’s wobbly and making his head hurt but he dials the number, inhaling deeply and resting his head against his hand.

“…Hello?” the voice on the other line says and Kuroo lets out a relieved whine.

_“Kenma.”_

He hears Kenma take a deep breath and knows it’s an angry one by the way it takes a full two minutes to hear it on his side of the line. “You have a lot of nerve calling.”

Kuroo has no plan, never did, and it all comes gushing out. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I wanted to do it. I wanted to tell you!”

“That you’ve been toying with me? I figured as much from the picture Keiji sent me, but thanks for telling me,” Kenma says, and Kuroo doesn’t understand. This isn’t how it’s supposed to work. It’s supposed to be Kuroo apologizing and saying how much he loves Kenma and Kenma taking him back. That’s how it’s supposed to work.

“Noooooo, it’s not true! I--” and Kuroo can’t help it, he bursts into a bunch of giggles, “I’m really drunk right now.”

“I can tell. Is that all?” Kenma sighs again and it sounds so wrong. The only sighs Kuroo wants to hear from Kenma anymore are the adorable one he makes when he’s frustrated with a game or the soft one he makes when he’s warm breath and gentle sounds beneath Kuroo. “You didn’t have to pretend to feel the same if you didn’t. I don’t know if you thought it was a big joke or-- or whatever, but it’s not funny. So I’m going to start moving on, if that’s alright with you.”

“Don’t do that,” Kuroo breathes, beginning to cry. His face doesn’t feel like his own, feeling too hot, too cold, too wet. “Please don’t. I love you, Kenma. Kenmaaaaa, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. You have no idea.”

There’s an angry growl that sounds like a kitten and the sound of Kenma ruffling his hair on the other line. “You send me photos of you getting drunk and kissing somebody else after you ignored my confession, and you expect me to believe you? I… I thought you felt the same.”

“No, I really love you, Kenma! Do you… Do you remember when you were in first grade and had to draw your family and you drew yours and mine holding hands? My mom still has it on the fridge hanging with some magnets. I wanna marry you and move to Canada and adopt Chinese babies with you!”

Kuroo hears Kenma sigh heavily, using that tone Kuroo’s heard directed at everybody else besides himself. “You’re not making any sense. Get some sleep and don’t call me again, Kuroo.”

“I mean it, Kenma. I’m so serious. I’ll… I’ll go out and buy you a ring right now. So marry me? Please marry me and never leave?”

Kuroo holds his breath and waits for a response, but all he hears is the monotone beeping of a dead line.

-

Kuroo calls and he calls and he calls again. He calls just to hear Kenma’s timid voicemail, his quiet voice saying, “this is Kozume Kenma… I’m not available. Leave a message.”

Kuroo calls until the voicemail is full of Kuroo’s desperate pleas. He calls until the automated message greets him, “I'm sorry, but the number you have reached is not in service, or temporarily disconnected. If you'd like to make a call please hang up and try again. This is a recording.”

-

“Holy shit, Kuroo, what the hell happened to you?” Bokuto says in a gasp when he finally finds Kuroo. Kuroo doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move. He lets Bokuto haul him off the seat where he’s barely swinging in place, and doesn’t put up a fight when Bokuto licks his thumb and smears his spit all over Kuroo’s face to wipe his face dry. “Seriously, dude, you look like shit.”

“I~ got~ rejected~” Kuroo singsongs. It’s barely five minutes until they’re back at the light Kuroo remembers crossing, even though Kuroo’s body said he ran much further away. His head is heavy and he wants to sleep or cry or die. “Kenma doesn’t want meeeee~”

“You called Kenma? Like this? Are you out of your mind!?” Bokuto actually stops to stare in open awe at Kuroo, which Kuroo drunkenly thinks is unwarranted. “Nevermind, don’t answer that. _Ugh_ , I’ll talk to him tomorrow so just… just calm down. It’s gonna be fine, I promise.”

It’s like Kuroo can hear Bokuto, but he can’t understand him. A part of him knows that if Bokuto says it’s going to be alright, then it’s going to be alright. The other part tells him that nothing’s going to be alright ever again, that he’s screwed up too badly. Even if Bokuto’s one of those he’s messed things up with, Bokuto’s the only one there for him him, and Kuroo finds himself clinging. “I can make it better. I can fix it. I need to buy a ring. Can we go to the ring store? Right now? I need to buy a ring, man.”

“If you still wanna go buy a ring tomorrow, I’ll go with you,” Bokuto laughs. He pats Kuroo’s back again, like Kuroo’s a child that needs to be taken care, which really doesn’t make anything feel better, but Kuroo remains on his feet, even after they’ve crossed the street and are waiting at the curve, Kuroo desperately wanting to do nothing more than collapse against Bokuto and cry.

“I-I need to buy it now and I need to go to Kenma and--”

“Tomorrow, man, tomorrow,” Bokuto coos. He hoists Kuroo up beneath his armpits after opening the door of the car that magically appears in front of them. Kuroo doesn’t even bother to help any as Bokuto shoves him in face first. Apparently it’s only when Kuroo’s shoved face-first against the window of the opposite side that Bokuto thinks he’s safely in place. Bokuto crawls in after him because Kuroo can feel his weight and warmth leaning against him, and even the way Bokuto’s breathing heavily. “Jesus, your ass is heavy, considering you don’t really have much of one. Go on a diet, would ya?”

“Buckle him up,” Akaashi says, peeking behind the driver’s seat to watch. He’s frowning like Bokuto was earlier and Kuroo wonders what he did to make Akaashi mad at him too.

“Oh, heyyyyyy. Akaashiiiii,” Kuroo slurs. He feels like a puppet as Bokuto moves his arms and legs around, too tired and drunk to complain when the seatbelt Bokuto straps over him digs into his neck. “When’d you get here?”

“Bokuto-san called me twenty minutes ago, and I’ve been driving around for the past ten. Not that you’ll remember in the morning,” Akaashi says briskly. Kuroo vaguely catches Bokuto nodding and giving Akaashi a thumb’s up and Akaashi nods back. “Are you riding in the front seat, Bokuto-san?”

“Nah, I’ll make sure he’s good,” Bokuto says. Kuroo feels Bokuto’s muscles and hands on him, holding his head up, and even though he feels grateful, he can’t remember the words to say it. “He’s a puker. I don’t want him choking on it or your car getting dirty. I got a some plastic bags and napkins from a convenience store before chasing after him just in case.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you. And thank you for the coffee,” Akaashi says, taking a sip out of the convenience store coffee that Kuroo swears wasn’t there two seconds ago.

It doesn’t matter because the car lurches forward and Kuroo feels his throat go hot and his stomach twist. Bokuto holds him steady and firm. Kuroo knows he’d be sick to his stomach without Bokuto holding him upright. He feels nauseous already, but at least he isn’t heaving yet. He hears himself muttering, “‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry,” over and over again, but all he feels is Bokuto petting his face and telling him to shut up. “You’re gonna have one massive hangover in the morning, but you’re gonna be okay, Kuroo.”

“Thanks,” Kuroo croaks, allowing himself to indulge in the way Bokuto’s rough hands feel so soft. “Love you, man.”

“I love you, too,” Bokuto laughs, squeezing his shoulder, “dumbass.”

-

Kuroo’s not exactly sure how he ends up on his bed, but he does know that it required Bokuto and Akaashi both slinging an arm around his shoulders. He remembers the world spinning when he was dropped on the mattress and the way he felt like he was spinning in a washer when they rolled him over into place. Beyond that, it’s all a blank.

What he does know is that Bokuto’s spooning him and it feels really good. When Bokuto’s holding him close and snuggling like this, Kuroo can almost pretend that life is good and he won’t wake up tomorrow regretting every decision he’s made in the past week.

That’s probably what makes it so tough when Bokuto rolls out of bed. Kuroo rolls with him, his arms and legs feeling like tentacles with little suction cups to latch onto Bokuto and the sound coming out of his throat feeling like the Kraken when he moans, “don’t leaaaave meeeee.”

Bokuto ruffles his hair with a smirk, and pats his cheek in that way that makes the world keep spinning and spinning. “I’ll be back before you know it. Akaashi texted me that he thinks my compassion is super sexy and he wants a quickie before he leaves. So be back in a flash, dude.”

Kuroo flops helplessly on his mattress as Bokuto slips out of their room, out of their apartment, out of his life. If Kuroo had any salt or hydration left in him to cry, he would.

-

Kuroo moans, feeling cold and alone and pitiful, and tosses in bed. It feels like eternity and Kuroo’s pretty sure that Bokuto’s abanadoned him to snuggle with Akaashi all night and that he’s going to die alone, but when he checks his phone, it says only three minutes have passed.

-

Kuroo resigns himself to his fate, so the dip of the mattress behind him comes as a surprise. “You didn’t go home with Akaashi?”

Bokuto crawls into his bunk and fits into place beside Kuroo to pet up and down Kuroo’s back, but it’s completely different than when Kenma pressed against him, Kuroo now feeling like a solid rock. “Nah, he just wanted a quickie. I told you that already. I’m spending the night with you, dude. Now move over, you deserve to be the little spoon after the day you’ve had.”

Kuroo groans and lets his head fall away from Bokuto’s. “God, your mouth smells like ass.”

“Actually, it’s dick, but roll over,” Bokuto laughs. Kuroo hates him for it, but he also really loves him for wrapping both arms around him tightly and nuzzling his face into Kuroo’s neck. “It’s gonna be alright, dude. I’m here for you.”

With Bokuto spooning him like this, Kuroo’s hair is gonna be a mess tomorrow, but Kuroo can’t bring himself to care.


	8. Day seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've been waiting for this chapter, thanks for sticking around for an update! it's def not abandoned and i will give you all a proper ending. i had a rough patch there, but i'm going to do my best to pump out some new works!

Kuroo wakes up to the smell of puke, but at least it smells like his puke, and that has to count for something, right? It takes a few tries but he blinks enough to realize he’s staring into a toilet bowl, his head hanging loosely from where his arms are folded on the toilet seat, too hungover to question if the seat was at least cleaned before ended up on it.

 _“Ughhh,”_ he moans, and then he lets out another moan as the memories of last night hit him like a tidal wave. He doesn’t remember much after the pool bar, but he vividly remembers the disgust twisting in his stomach from the karaoke box and crying on the phone. His back feels cold and vulnerable, now exposed without Bokuto’s bulk protecting him.

“You’re awake,” a judgemental voice thunders from beside him. Okay, it’s more like a dry, flat utterance, but it still makes Kuroo’s head throb.

Kuroo barely manages to tilt his head without the entire world feeling like it’s spinning with him. He knows he’s hungover because that looks a lot like Akaashi sitting on the ledge of the bathtub and leaning over to brush Kuroo’s messy bangs out of the way of the toilet seat.

“What are you doing here?” Kuroo barely mouths the words and his throat feels like it’s on fire. Damn Akaashi for being perfect because Kuroo really doesn’t want to accept the offered water, but he knows he needs it. His whole body is shaking and feels cold, his head pounding, but he manages to hold the water long enough to drink it.

“Holding up your hair when you puke and flushing the toilet every now and then,” Akaashi says in a clip, tone as sharp and to the point as each word.

“Oh,” Kuroo says as the guilt layers on top of the nausea. He stops chugging the water about halfway through, unable to drink any more with the confidence he won’t puke. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Hmm, more than five words this time. I take it you’re awake for good?” Akaashi pockets his phone and then crosses his arms over the chest. It looks too intimidating than Kuroo cares to wake up to, but he doesn’t have much of a choice, unable to move and barely about to speak as it is.

“Guess so,” Kuroo manages.

“Good, then I can do this and you’ll _remember_ this time.” Akaashi leans forward and flicks Kuroo on the forehead. Kuroo knows it to be a light touch, but it makes his entire body throb. Seriously, Kuroo can feel that little flick in his toes right now. Also, he feels a little insulted, his brain slowly realizing the implication that Akaashi’s flicked him multiple times already but continues to do so until Kuroo remembers. “You are an idiot, as I’m sure you already know. You don’t deserve him.”

“I know,” Kuroo admits miserably. His inner estimation of himself smells worse than the mixture of unwashed booze and puke in his mouth. “I let Kenma slip right through my fingers.”

Akaashi blinks and Kuroo doesn’t think he _quite_ deserves that expression of pure fury being directed at himself, but he’s not exactly in a position to tell Akaashi to cut it out.

 _“No_ , _”_ Akaashi says, glare stronger than a chain of volcanoes erupting all at once, “you don’t deserve Bokuto.”

Now, Kuroo knows Bokuto is the best. Kuroo wouldn’t willingly live with anybody he didn’t trust enough to know they wouldn’t reveal his deepest, darkest secret (singing idol songs out loud in the shower and dancing along to them step-for-step). Beyond that, Bokuto was objectively a great guy and Kuroo knew that already. “Huh?”

Even the deep breath Akaashi takes instills fear inside Kuroo. “I’ve been here all morning because Bokuto checked your pockets to make sure you didn’t lose anything when you went on a drunken rampage last night. As it turns out, your wallet was missing, so he’s out there tracing your steps to find it right now. Bokuto-san and I had plans for a romantic date today, but he thought it was more important to help you first. I offered to help him find your stupid wallet, but he was staunchly against it because he didn’t want you to wake up alone. He asked me to stay with you until he returned, and so I am here. Do you understand? _That_ is why you don’t deserve him.”

Unsure what to say, both because his brain is just catching up to that long rant and also because the nausea is growing by the second, Kuroo slumps against the toilet. While Bokuto’s altruistic behavior isn’t shocking, Kuroo’s moved by both his dedication to their friendship and the fact Akaashi was apparently a good enough boyfriend to honor Bokuto’s request.

But Akaashi doesn’t seem to be done with him yet.

“And to top it all off, Bokuto-san was right. You needed somebody here when you woke up or else you would have suffocated in your own vomit. You’ve been puking and I’ve been holding your ridiculous hair back for the past two hours. The only good thing about this whole situation is that I’m on level 30 of Flappy Bird.” Akaashi swallows, still mad. “But you don’t deserve Kozume, either. What were you _thinking,_ kissing somebody else? I thought you were better than that. I thought you-- You _told_ me you had feelings for him.”

“And I _do,”_ Kuroo insists into the toilet bowl. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I haven’t kissed anybody in my entire _life._ Except Kenma.”

Akaashi opens his mouth and takes a breath like he’s about to say something, but he screws his mouth shut so hard that his nose wrinkles. He silently pulls out his phone, taps at it for a few seconds, and then holds the screen up to Kuroo. Right there on Akaashi’s phone, Kuroo’s back is turned to the camera and the pool girl from last night is pushed up against him, her face tilted as though they were about to kiss. That’s far from the complete story the picture tells though: Kuroo’s hands are resting on the small of her back, which she holds there by his wrists, one of her hind legs propped up as though she were the cute heroine out of a romantic comedy getting her first kiss.

Kuroo may be harboring the mother of all hangovers, but there’s no way he can just wallow after seeing a picture like that. He’ll deal with the world spinning some other time; right now he needs to look at this picture and try to piece together last night. Nothing’s coming to mind, just the sick feeling he got when he called Bokuto’s name after she tried putting the moves on him. He scrolls down Akaashi’s texts, feeling sicker and sicker as more pictures show him passed out and looking pleased on Pool Girl’s lap.

Light Of My Life   
  
**Yesterday** 11:48 PM  
**[From: Light Of My Life]** **Attached:** WTF.JPG  
  
**[From: Light Of My Life]** AKAASHI  
  
**[From: Light Of My Life]** HELP!!!!!   
  
**[From: Light Of My Life]** DO U KNOW WHO IS SENDING THIS????  
  
**[From: Light Of My Life]** KENMA JUST SENT IT TO ME  
  
**[To: Light Of My Life]** Please calm down. I was the one to send it to him.  
  
**[To: Light Of My Life]** I received it from a random number which concerned me.  
  
**[From: Light Of My Life]** some random # is sending it to everybody ???  
  
**[To: Light Of My Life]** Perhaps? Do you have an explanation for it?  
  
**[From: Light Of My Life]** this is bad!! very bad!!  
  
**[From: Light Of My Life]** Is it? Kozume tells me he seemed uninterested.  
  
**[From: Light Of My Life]** WHAT  
  
**[From: Light Of My Life]** NO WAY  
  
**[From: Light Of My Life]** DUDE  
  
**[From: Light Of My Life]** theyve been mutually in love  <3 since they were wearing diapers  
  
**[From: Light Of My Life]** especially kuroo  
  
**[From: Light Of My Life]** plus im with him rn so ???  
  
**[To: Light Of My Life]** Hm. That is strange. I must be mistaken. Maybe he slipped away for a moment?  
  
**Today** 12:02 AM  
**[From: Light Of My Life]** OMG AKAASHI  
  
**[From: Light Of My Life]** I NEED TO TALK TO YOU RIGHT NO WW  
  
**[To: Light Of My Life]** Missed call  
  
**[To: Light Of My Life]** Missed call  
  
**[To: Light Of My Life]** Missed call  
  
**[To: Light Of My Life]** Are you okay??? I have called several times now. Please let me know you are safe.  
  
**Today** 12:23 AM  
**[From: Light Of My Life]** can we get a ride home? idk what to do, AKAASHI...  
  
**[To: Light Of My Life]** I’m leaving now. Please keep safe in the meantime  
  


The exchange grows worse with every text, but Kuroo breathes out steadily, feeling sick as it clicks into place: Kenma’s mad because it looks like Kuroo was partying and hooking up without somebody else _after_ ignoring his confession. As if he could feel any worse about last night, the cold weight settles in his stomach as though a small animal had crawled inside of him and died.

Kuroo shakily passes the phone back to Akaashi only through sheer force. He feels like puking but he can tell from his stomach that there’s nothing left to puke. “He’s telling the truth. I didn’t-- I wouldn’t.”

“Your actions indicate otherwise,” Akaashi says in a voice sharper than he’s ever heard him direct to Bokuto in their tiny apartment. “So explain. Did you kiss somebody last night?”

Kuroo shakes his head but that makes everything spin again. But if it means fixing up this mess, then he’ll deal with it. “No, she tried. But I didn’t want to. Bokuto got me out right after. That’s why-- I think that’s when he called you.”

“If that’s true, then Bokuto will confirm your story.” Akaashi looks away, still frowning. His lips thin out even further than when he’s exasperated with Bokuto, so Kuroo thinks he must be doubly fucked. And not in the fun way. “Kozume is still mad at you.”

“I know.” Kuroo musters what little energy he has to push off of the toilet seat, heavily falling on his ass and against the wall. He wants to pull the toilet seat down and have an eye-to-eye conversation with Akaashi, but it feels like too hard a task right now. “I called him last night. I… I don’t know what I said, honestly.”

“He told me.” Akaashi sighs angrily and crosses his arms. He sets his phone aside, and his expression softens, almost something like pity. “It was a textbook drunk call: you apologized, wouldn’t stop saying you loved him, and something about Chinese babies. Kozume wasn’t so forthcoming about that part.”

“Urk,” Kuroo says, resisting the urge to hurl food that isn’t in his stomach. He wobbly manages to tug the seat down and crawl on top, though he’s still not on eye level with Akaashi, not with the way he’s holding his head up just to keep awake. “That’s… I’ll explain it to him later.”

Akaashi watches him moan and groan for a few minutes longer before he shakes his head and stands up. “I don’t know how a man can screw things up this badly. I practically set you two up and you still managed to mess it up for yourself.”

Kuroo blinks and hold his head up to Akaashi. Even if Akaashi’s expression is sour enough that Kuroo doesn’t want to look, he feels the need to watch when he asks, _“What?”_

“You really are a dense idiot, aren’t you? You spend your entire life hoping that Kozume might _possibly_ feel the way you feel about him, yet you ignore all the signs.” Akaashi shifts his weight onto one foot and places both hands on his hips like the independent man-who-don’t-need-no-man-but-still-has-a-man-he-loves-and-cherishes that he is. “Kozume told me how he felt about you the night he invited me to your party. It was obvious that you felt the same, so I thought I would help him in return for introducing me to Bokuto. That’s why we invited you to the double date in the first place.”

It takes Kuroo’s brain several moments to catch up, and his memory of that day is different than what Akaashi is implying. “But that was a blind date.”

“It was _never_ a blind date,” Akaashi says dryly. His eyes roll in thought and then heavily sighs. It sounds more directed at himself than at Kuroo this time, he’s pleased to see. “I presented it to Bokuto-san as a blind date at first, but then I suggested that we bring friends that we knew to make it more comfortable. I told Kozume from the beginning that it would be a date with you.”

“Wait, so he thought--?”

 _“Yes,”_ Akaashi says emphatically, beginning to rub his thumbs against his sore temples.

“Oh my god,” Kuroo says, mostly to himself. His head falls forward into his hands, and if he was sober, he’d be hitting himself in the head right now. He gives himself a good, mental kick in the butt for measure. “He thinks we’ve been dating.”

“You _have_ been dating,” Akaashi points out sourly. “At least, you were. You’re lucky if he’ll talk to you ever again after last night.”

Kuroo feels the urge to puke again, but it’s not from his hangover. “When we were heading back to his place, I told him I didn’t want to go on the date, and I didn’t tell him I loved him back when he confessed to me.”

Akaashi stares, holds his breath, and does his best not to explode. Kuroo can tell by the way his fingers are twitching and the way the corner of his lip keeps thinning out. “You are the stupidest man to ever walk this Earth.”

Kuroo can’t disagree with Akaashi, but at least he manages to reach the garbage can Akaashi brought into their apartment two days ago before he hurls all over the floor.

-

“I have to do something to fix this,” Kuroo moans over an armrest of his couch. Munching on a lentil salad that Kuroo had rejected with a green face, reeling from the very smell, Akaashi’s hand rubbing up and down his back feels better than he’d like to admit, but he can’t be distracted by Akaashi’s magic hangover-curing hands because he has to figure out how to get his childhood friend to forgive him and maybe take him back and be his boyfriend or something equally mushy like that.

“You could text him an apology, for starters,” Akaashi points out.

“Not enough,” Kuroo grumbles. Akaashi sighs tiredly behind him, but Kuroo believes it’s unwarranted. He pulls his phone out and looks over the messages he typed out. “Okay, tell me which of these options sound the best.”

Akaashi squints his sharp, beady eyes at Kuroo, and Kuroo has absolutely zero idea what Bokuto finds attractive about the amount of judgement encased in those eyes. “Unless any of them have a clear apology and an honest confession of your feelings, none of them.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Kuroo says while typing out his messages to Kenma. “Okay, option one: ‘Hey, Kenma. It’s Kuroo. (You knew that already.) Whatever you’ve heard, it isn’t true. (Unless you heard that I love you, which is 100% true.) Call me back.’”

Akaashi sighs a sigh that Kuroo dearly hopes he never sighs at Bokuto, because it sounds like he’s annoyed with a little child. “Conveniently forgetting that photo, aren’t you?”

“Ugh, I knew you’d say that.” Kuroo immediately erases the text and types up a new one. “Option two: ‘Kenma, please talk to me. I am sober and my head hurts and I need to talk to you about that photo. It’s a fake, so don’t believe it!’”

Akaashi again looks at Kuroo, and though his look is enough to convey his entire meaning, he lets Kuroo have it anyway. “Because that’s what would make me take Bokuto-san back after believing he hooked up with an unknown woman after a wild night of partying. That’s insufficient.”

“You don’t hold anything back, do you?” Kuroo grimaces. He ditches that text as well and glares at his phone, loudly tapping against it. “Alright, there’s one more I have left: ‘I’m an idiot and I screwed up big time. Can we pretend nothing happened last night? Give me a call, we need to talk.’”

Akaashi sighs heavily, and his palm stroking along Kuroo’s back stops abruptly. He doesn’t flick Kuroo in the head like his groan suggests he really wants to, but he also gives up, taking away all those comfy caresses with him. “Hey, where are you going?”

“You’re fine enough to hold your own hair back if you puke again. I’m not taking care of you if you’re not going to take care of yourself,” Akaashi says in a clipped tone as he covers his salad and sticks it into the fridge for Bokuto to finish. Kuroo’s left to wonder what Akaashi means as he watches his best friend’s boyfriend toe on his shoes and slam the door behind him.

Kuroo looks helplessly at the closed door, his brain pulsing echoing throbs of the sound of it slamming. He erases his message a third time and frowns at the blank screen staring back at him.

-

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 1:02 PM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** kenma, i need to talk to you!  
  
**Today** 1:13 PM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** did you get my text??  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** trying again.  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** kenma, i need to talk to you!  
  


-

Wine Mom   
  
**Today** 1:13 PM  
**[To: Wine Mom]** are you getting my texts??  
  
**[From: Wine Mom]** Unfortunately.  
  


-

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 1:18 PM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** okay i get you’re mad at me. i would be too. let’s talk it out?  
  
**Read** 1:18 PM  
  
**Today** 1:21 PM  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** please. i wouldn’t beg for anybody else.  
  
**Read** 1:21 PM  
  
**Today** 1:25 PM  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** you’re ignoring me.  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** i deserve that  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** but really we need to talk. stop shutting me out?  
  
**Read** 1:25 PM  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** D:  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** DD:  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** DDD:   
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** DDDDDDDDDDDD:!!!  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** ???  
  
**Read** 1:31 PM  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** kenma  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** kenmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** Kenma  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** Kenma  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** Kenma  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** Kenma.  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** okay now i’m really starting to worry  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** Kenma?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** Please answer me just to know you’re alright.  
  
**Read** 1:35 PM  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** I know I messed up, but it isn’t whatever you’re thinking. I don’t want to do this over texts, so please please PLEASE call me. I don’t want this to be how whatever it is we had ends.  
  
**Not delivered**  
  


-

“Okay, that’s it!” Kuroo announces into the empty apartment, not even five minutes after his phone informs him that his text messages are no longer going through to Kenma’s number. He -- regrettably -- slaps his cheeks, which just makes the world ring even louder, and tries to think through the thick haze of his hangover. “Kenma’s mad at you. Which game would he be playing?”

Something that involves shooting. Something where he can listen in on others and feel included, but not one where it forces him to talk back.

 _Overwatch_.

Kuroo retrieves his crappy laptop that he only uses to watch Netflix and write the occasional paper from his and Bokuto’s room, and he nearly slams the device so hard on the ping pong table that the force of it could have very well broken either the laptop or the table. Whatever. Kuroo’s on a mission to download the game, praying every second that his laptop isn’t so old that the game won’t run.

One hour of downloading and five minutes of installation later, Overwatch runs in all of its lagging glory on Kuroo’s screen. He logs into the account Kenma made for him on a whim and breathes in relief when he finds Kenma’s account is live. It lasts exactly two seconds before Kuroo finds his account defriended and blocked.

“Shit,” Kuroo says out loud, to an empty room.

So he tries everything.  

He logs into the Twitch stream he’s 98% sure Kenma’s streaming. He’s instantly booted despite his very stealthy name of, ‘PLEASE CALL ME.’

He even downloads the new Fate game on his phone because he knows Kenma’s addicted. It takes playing through the entire prologue before he finds out how to look up friend codes. -- Not that it matters. Kuroo’s impressed with himself for memorizing the string of randomized numbers of Kenma’s account, but there’s no private message tool built into the app.

Desperate, Kuroo returns to the stream -- this time on Bokuto’s laptop and with the alias, ‘TracersGF.’ This time he manages to send an entire plea of, ‘I am sorry for everything, and I love you,’ before Kenma’s stream goes offline.

Kuroo slumps in his seat, trying to hold back the urge to cry at the test signal colors left on his screen.

-

“It took _forever_ to find but I finally got it!” Bokuto wearily cheers as soon as the door’s closed behind him. There are circles beneath his eyes but his smile is easy and bright. “Good thing, too! I thought for sure I’d have to cancel with Akaashi trying to find this little guy!”

He holds Kuroo’s Hello Kitty wallet (a gag gift Kenma bought him in middle school) like a prize, which Kuroo abruptly runs over to steal. He hasn’t been chugging two liters of water to hydrate his hungover self for nothing since Akaashi left.

“Thank you _so_ much,” Kuroo breathes against Bokuto’s ear, collapsing into a hug against his friend. Kuroo quietly thanks the scornful deities that Bokuto is so simple; Akaashi would have recognized his hangover is still so bad he can’t sit upright without the world spinning, but Bokuto simply hugs him back and laughs loud enough to make Kuroo’s brain wince.

“‘Course, dude.” Bokuto’s arms are firm and warm as they support his friend in an all-encompassing hug, and he gently headbutts Kuroo -- none too hard, of course, considering the hangover and all. “Turned up at one of the bars, which got me thinking. Do you think--?”

“Can it wait?” Kuroo cuts off Bokuto before he can begin, knowing Bokuto’s habit of falling down the rabbit hole whenever he thinks too hard. “Gotta save the day and win Kenma back.”

If Kuroo hadn’t been so focused on Kenma and his stupid hangover, he would have noticed the little twitch of Bokuto’s lips and the way his golden eyes fell downcast. But Bokuto nods, weakly but encouragingly, “yeah, go get ‘im.”

And so Kuroo squeezes Bokuto tight before wobbling out. His head’s still spinning, but not so much that he would have missed the soft bend of Bokuto’s brows.

-

Kuroo clutches onto the train bar handle for dear life. With every jitter and jolt of the train, with every swerve to the side and lurch to a stop, Kuroo sees his life flash before his eyes. He just hopes that he manages to get to his stop before throwing up on the sweet granny packed in front of him. The cold sweat runs down the back of his neck and Kuroo is slightly hoping for a swift death to stop the pounding of his head, but his mantra of, ‘Kenma, Kenma, Kenma,’ keeps his lips sealed and his mind focused.

-

“This is how I die,” Kuroo wheezes to himself, pulling himself up Kenma’s stairs by the railing.

-

Two close calls and three flights of stairs later, Kuroo finds himself face-to-face with Kenma’s door. There’s no need to take a deep breath, to muster the strength to knock on the door, or to brace himself to meet Kenma’s disappointed eyes, because there’s a note right in front of his face that says, “At Lev’s,” posted to the door.

Kuroo grabs the little square note and curses beneath his breath. He fucked up beyond bad if Kenma is _willingly_ at Lev’s.

-

Kuroo nearly heaves on a schoolchild during the first transfer between stops that it takes to get to Lev’s place, but he arrives at the Haiba household safe and sound. Lev’s sister answers the door, looking sorry at Kuroo for reasons he can’t understand. “You’re looking for Kenma, aren’t you? I’m sorry, but he’s not here. Lyovochka is with Morisuke-kun right now, if you’d like to try there next.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Kuroo sighs, trying to do the mental math to figure out why Lev’s sister calls Yaku by first name and if taking the train or bus would be faster. “Thanks. Gotta go then.”

Alisa smiles at him, but it doesn’t quite catch her eye. There’s something sad in the thinness of that look, almost pitying. “For what it’s worth, good luck.”

-

“But he never visits me! And when I visit, he tries to run away!” Lev whines loudly, once Kuroo’s explained why he’s on Yaku’s doorstep half-hungover and looking green in the face. Kuroo doesn’t even want to know why Lev is in boxers and Yaku’s wearing a shirt that droops and sags to his knees, but Kuroo is eternally grateful for the distractions tugging his attention away from his splitting headache, if only for a few seconds.

“He’s at Taketora’s,” Yaku says stiffly. His arms are crossed and he hasn’t looked this pissy since Kuroo first met him and they couldn’t agree on any single matter. Eerily, Yaku actually looks a bit like Akaashi, with the way his eyes are squinted like he _knows_ what Kuroo did. It’s a look that hurts more than had Yaku kicked him right then and there. “Better hurry, or you’re really going to lose him this time.”

-

Normally Kuroo’s hangovers begin to ebb away after a while, but he only feels sicker as the day goes on.

Kuroo persists, though. He’d do whatever it takes to make this right. As long as it means he has a chance with Kenma, then it’s all worth it, even if it means going on one giant, wild goose chase or living with the bruise that’s going to form on his left jaw in the shape of Taketora’s fist.

Kuroo had been sent off to Fukunaga’s with a farewell equal parts enraged and encouraging. He closes his eyes and hopes that Kenma’s actually there this time.

-

“Sorry,” Fukunaga says uncomfortably. “He told me to tell you he’s at Inuoka’s…”

-

Inuoka whips out his phone and reads the text out loud: “If Kuroo shows up, tell him I’m at Shibayama’s!”

-

“Kai might know,” Shibayama says sheepishly, looking away guiltily.

-

“He’s at his dorm,” Kai says evenly the second he opens his door to Kuroo bent over in half and panting, “but I’m guessing you’ve already been there.”

Kuroo feels his hope slip from the weight of those words, but he doesn’t allow himself to entertain it as the truth. He forces himself to muster a smile that twitches from how hard he‘s trying to keep a good face, and his voice sounds more wheezy than his burning lungs suggested. “Doesn’t hurt to check again.”

-

By six, Kuroo has travelled across Tokyo and back twice, made a winding circle, and began and ended at Kenma’s dorm. With nowhere else to turn to, he heads to the only place he _can_ think of, a place he hadn’t honestly visited in the past year, too busy getting used to university life and the smell of Bokuto’s ass on his couch.

Yet it’s where he ends up, where he should have ended up all along: home. It’s not his own door he knocks on, but Kenma’s.

He feels guilt as his knuckles fall heavily against the door he hadn’t bothered to knock on in over a year, but it’s nothing compared to the gut-wrenching anxiety of waiting for Kenma to answer. It feels like he’s been waiting forever, his hands balling into fists and clenching his fingers so hard that his knuckles go white. He hopes Kenma’s dad isn’t the one who answers, because then Kuroo knows for sure he’ll never speak to Kenma ever again. Then it occurs to him that Kenma might not answer, but before Kuroo can freak out about that possibility too badly, the soft pad of feet on the other side of the door stills his racing heart.

Kuroo’s stomach drops with the force of a rubber band being snapped, and he realizes that he doesn’t know what to say. Which is just as well, since Kenma barely opens the door past the little creek that lets Kuroo see Kenma’s golden eyes. Kuroo may not have a plan, but it clicks into place the moment he sees the untrusting glimmer in Kenma’s eyes, a look he forgot Kenma was even capable of and one he’d never thought would be directed at himself.

From the other side of the door, Kenma huffs as though the small bit of interaction has already exhausted him. “What do you want?”

“I’m going to apologize properly to you,” Kuroo warns, too quickly for Kenma to change his mind and slam the door on his face. Kuroo instantly drops to his knees and bows formally, so deeply that his forehead touches the tip of Kenma’s sock peeking just outside the door. “Please forgive me!”

“Y-You--!” Moving faster than Kuroo has ever seen Kenma move during practice or to join the line for the latest game he wants to play, he side-steps outside and slams the front door shut. “Kuroo!”

“I apologize for doing you wrong by playing with your heart! Your feelings were sincere and I stepped all over them,” Kuroo boldly announces, simply arranging himself to bow in the direction Kenma’s stepped. Kuroo swallows thickly and imagines Kenma’s glare; by the way he’d slammed the door, he’s probably angrier than ever. He’d always taken Kenma’s face for granted and now that he was willingly depriving himself of it, it was the one thing he wanted to see. Even so, he holds his head low, baring the back of his neck. “I want to express my sincerest regret for the grievance I’ve caused.”

“Kuroo…”

Kuroo clenches his eyes shut and steels his resolve. He pulls up just enough to bow again, not even minding that his palms and knees and even his hair have the dirt of Kenma’s front step on them now. Hell, he knows he doesn’t even deserve the forgiveness of Kenma’s dirt, but he’ll take even that. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please accept this apology!”

 _“Kuroo,”_ Kenma sighs, and Kuroo gulps. He hopes at least Kenma’s mom will forgive him some day. “You idiot.”

There’s a soft hand pulling his hair and yanking him up. Kuroo blinks as Kenma tugs him up, face flushed and eyes impossibly wide. His lower lip is wobbling, but Kuroo can’t tell if it’s from anger or embarrassment. Kuroo waits, every second of breathing feeling like needles slipping deeper and deeper inside of him.

Kenma’s the first to cough, meaning he’s embarrassed. It’s actually a bit of an accomplishment, given how stoic Kenma is about his personal feelings and unamused at Kuroo’s antics. Kuroo half expected Kenma to roll his eyes in dismissal or shut him out completely and for good, but here Kenma is, blushing and unable to meet him eye-to-eye.

“Right now. Are you serious?” Kenma asks, peeking from beneath his bangs.

“I need you to know I’m serious,” Kuroo says breathlessly, heart racing. He’s pretty sure that he has dirt on his cheek and his lips taste a little bit like concrete, but he wouldn’t have it any other way as long as Kenma believes him.

“Even the babies part?” Kenma counters pointedly, and Kuroo smiles awkwardly.

“Well, uh, yeah. I mean, eventually,” Kuroo rambles, suddenly the one to look away. The voice in the back of his head reminds him that he’s supposed to be cool and in control, not a stammering mess. He plants himself and looks back, failing to calm his heart, which is pounding so hard it feels like it might crack his ribs.  He swallows, scared but ready to say it this time. “I love you, Kenma. I have always loved you. This past week, everything you felt was true. So if you’re asking for real, then yes. I want it all with you. That is the truth.”

Kenma lets his face drop again, but Kuroo dares to reach out, hand shaking but still parting Kenma’s bangs. He tucks one of Kenma’s longer strands of hair beneath his ear, smiling at the small wells of tears there. His cheeks are impossibly red, and his nostrils are flared, but Kuroo’s pretty sure he doesn’t look much better. He sure as hell doesn’t feel any better. As for Kenma, he’s spent all his life trying to escape the attention of others, so Kuroo knows Kenma would escape Kuroo’s attention if he didn’t want it right now.

Eventually Kenma blinks back the tears and pushes Kuroo’s hand away, motioning for them both to sit on the front steps. Kuroo wouldn’t voice how disappointed he is that he’s not being invited inside, but Kenma grumbles, “I’m not ready for them to see me like this yet,” before the insecurity can take root too firmly. Kuroo nods, feeling himself flushed, and sits besides Kenma.  

They breathe easily side-by-side, and Kuroo’s heart begins to race again. He should say something to fill this silence, but he tilts his head up to the sky to watch the clouds slowly amble overhead. He’s done so much of the talking, maybe he wasn’t listening enough, so he gives Kenma all the time he needs.

“You didn’t have to go _that_ far,” Kenma eventually mutters shyly. His eyes fall downcast, and then he leans forward so that his bangs fall into his face to hide his expression. “I just wanted to make you suffer a little bit. You didn’t have to… That.”

“Of course I did!” Kuroo insists, but Kenma hums suspiciously. “You wouldn’t believe that I was serious unless I proved it, right? It was a test to see if I’d chase you around town -- with the hangover of a lifetime, by the way -- and move heaven and earth to find you. It was a really hard! I puked twice!”

“It was just a little punishment,” Kenma scoffs. He looks away, but this time it’s with a small, fond smile. It’s not quite the smile that matches the glimmer Kenma gets in his eyes whenever he’s fighting a boss he doesn’t know if he can beat, but Kuroo finds it just as adorable. “You deserved it. All your other apologies were really crappy.”

“Well!” Kuroo’s tone begins high and offended but quickly deflates. “Well, you’re not wrong about that. I didn’t know what to do. Nothing seemed right. Even now, there’s so much I want to say and I’m not sure how to say it. I’ve really messed this up, haven’t I?”

“Yup,” Kenma concedes bluntly, but Kuroo chuckles, feeling relief by Kenma’s usual self. But that’s also why it’s not really a surprise when Kenma hugs his knees to his chest and confesses, “I’m still mad at you.”

“I know,” Kuroo admits in a small voice. Even though they’re sitting side-by-side, breaths matching and comfortable in the easy way they’re talking again, he knows he can’t undo the past or take back any doubt he’s given Kenma already. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right again, Kenma. I mean it. Anything you want, I’ll do.”

Kuroo looks up and Kenma’s watching him carefully. For a second he thinks this might have fixed things between them, but Kenma frowns. The truth makes Kuroo’s heart sink, but the only thing that could make it worse is the following: “I need some more time.”

“Okay.” Kuroo expected no less, even though it disappoints him. A part of him hoped that Kenma would have accepted him as a golden knight on a horse to completely fix what he’d ruined, but Kenma had no such delusions. Still, he said he’d do whatever it takes, and if this is what Kenma needs, then Kuroo will gladly do it. A bit hopefully, he asks, “Maybe we can still text and chat?”

“Yeah,” Kenma agrees, looking away. As he stands up, Kenma’s eyes are downcast to the right, but Kuroo knows it’s more genuine than had Kenma looked him in the eye. “Let’s do that.”

“I’ll see you then?” Kuroo says, but it’s more of a vague question, to which Kenma nods. Even though Kenma doesn’t answer, Kuroo knows by the small smile on Kenma’s face that it’s as much as Kuroo is going to get.

It’s a little known fact, but Kuroo’s provocative teasing is more instinct than it is intentional. Before Kuroo can stop it, he’s raising both brows with a leer, assuring, “see you tomorrow, Kenma.”

Kenma, adorably sour, rolls his eyes and walks right back into his house. Kuroo frowns but it’s not surprising that Kenma would leave him like that. He stands up and shuffles around awkwardly. Just as he turns to leave, the door clicks open and there’s only a quick slice of the air before something hits Kuroo in the back of the head. “Ow!”

He turns on his heel, noticing the water bottle with an indent in it, now rolling against the toe of his shoe. He looks up and barely catches Kenma shutting the door, smirking. “You need to drink more water.”

Kuroo swallows thickly; he’s never been thirstier before.

-

“I’m back!” Kuroo ends up walking into his apartment with a smirk as wide as the sky. His hangover is gone, the sun is shining, his skin is clear, and his crops are thriving. It’s the second time he’s come home feeling like he’s walking on air in a week, but that instantly changes the minute he sees the Bokuto’s hair peeking flatly against the couch. “Bokuto…?”

The lump in the couch moves ever so slightly, and as Kuroo approaches, he realizes it’s Bokuto curled up in a blanket. He’s watching the TV with a blank, faraway gaze, but his eyebrows are wrinkled inward, a sign that he’s been thinking. That’s never a good sign.

Kuroo takes a seat next to Bokuto, gently touching him when Bokuto doesn’t react. “Hey.”

When Bokuto looks up, his eyes focus, but his eyebrows remain glued in place. Like his words, his face is apparently delaying reaction. “Mm?”

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for a date right about now? Akaashi mentioned it before and so did you.” Kuroo tries to smile, but Bokuto isn’t smiling back. Kuroo feels the guilt set in as he tries to figure out what could have caused Bokuto’s mood dip. There was always a cause, no matter how ridiculous it might be. Some days it was because his hair wasn’t standing up right and other days it was because they were eating chicken instead of beef for dinner, but there was always a cause. Kuroo mentally kicks himself as he recalls Bokuto trying to tell him something earlier, while he was leaving. First Kenma, now Bokuto? Kuroo was really two for two, wasn’t he?

“Oh, yeah. That.” Bokuto looks back at the TV and sighs so heavily and deeply, one might think he’s a man burdened by life. “I’m not going.”

“Eh _hh?”_ Kuroo nudges Bokuto encouragingly while dragging out the syllable. A little roughhousing always picked up Bokuto. “What do you mean you’re not going?”

“I mean I’m not going!” Bokuto barks back. He defiantly shrugs Kuroo off and buries himself in the blanket as though it were a cocoon.

“So you’re just gonna let down Akaashi like that? He’s gonna be _heartbroken_ , man.” Kuroo’s trying his best to lay on the guilt. Bokuto’s optimism always resists it, but this time all he gets is a sad slump of the blanket. “And then he’ll think you’re a terrible boyfriend and dump you!”

“Yeah,” the lump mumbles, and Kuroo can practically hear the tears in the tremble of Bokuto’s voice. “Akaashi deserves better.”

Kuroo bites on his tongue; this is working _too_ well. Bokuto’s not bouncing back this time, and Kuroo’s provocation is just making things worse. Kuroo sighs and runs a hand down his face, feeling like an idiot more than ever before. First he’d been too self-centered to notice Kenma’s frustrations, and now he’d been too focused on Kenma to see the telltale signs that were there for Bokuto. There’s no use worrying about the past now that he can’t do anything about it. He can only wrap an arm loosely around Bokuto and show Bokuto that he’s here for him now. If he’s learned anything from his past week of mistakes, it’s to leave the space to the one in pain. “That’s not like you. What’s going on?”

It takes nearly a full minute of silence, but Bokuto finally pops his head out, eyes glossy with tears and a dribble of snot rolling out of his nose. “You just said it, I’m a bad boyfriend!”

“You’re not!” Kuroo says back.

Bokuto matches Kuroo’s passion, yelling back, “I am!”

“You’re not!”

“I am!”

“You’re not!”

“I am!”

“You are!”

“I’m not! -- Hey wait!” Bokuto puffs out his cheeks once he recognizes his mistakes, and Kuroo laughs out loud, messing up Bokuto’s hair even more. Bokuto grins despite himself, and Kuroo breathes a little bit easier, pleased to see Bokuto’s relaxed even just a little. He rubs Bokuto’s shoulder encouragingly to try and keep up his mood. But once the smile drops and Bokuto remembers his mood, he stills and begins to tense again, looking up at Kuroo. “You really don’t think I’m a bad boyfriend?”

“As much as this pains me to say,” Kuroo begins with a shallow groan, “you’re really not. You and Akaashi are _stupidly_ in love, it’s annoying. And your man thinks the world of you. So you have to be doing something right.”

“Yeah, but.” Bokuto purses his lips and his eyebrows return to the center of his face. “You don’t even like Akaashi. I wanted you to congratulate me man-to-man on my sexual awakening--”

“Ew.”

“--and you never ask me about it. I thought for sure you’d say, ‘Bokuto! You’ve won Akaashi’s heart, so teach me how to win Kenma’s!’” Kuroo’s eyebrow twitches as Bokuto monologues about his ridiculous priorities and mocks Kuroo’s voice. He snorts and Bokuto grins at that, and it must relax Bokuto enough to reveal the vulnerable root that sits beneath that outside layer of arrogance. Bokuto sighs quietly, bravado dropped. “Man, I must look so uncool. I know Akaashi is always taking care of me. Like when I called him last night. All I do is cause him trouble. I’m not an idiot, you know. I know we’re moving really fast and that’s not normal.”

By the end, Bokuto’s lips are thinned out and wobbling, and the thick wells of tears begin to spill over. Kuroo wipes the first one away, but then they start coming down too quickly to wipe them all dry. A little bit of snot mixes in with his tears, and surprisingly that’s not what Kuroo’s most concerned about. “Hey, hey. _Breathe.”_

“I… I can’t do it to Akaashi!” Bokuto wails, the tears spilling out hot and fat. “He deserves so much, Kuroo. He’s the _best!”_

“Then he deserves the best. Which means he deserves _you,”_ Kuroo says, poking Bokuto in the middle of his chest. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up and ready for this date.”

Bokuto shakes his head dramatically from side-to-side and burrows into the blanket again. “I can’t!”

Kuroo sighs. Since there’s no use in pulling Bokuto out, he rubs Bokuto’s back and waits until Bokuto’s ready to come out on his own terms. Which might not be for awhile, he realizes with a sigh. Kuroo yanks on the blanket and then frowns. “Hey, this is mine! You better not be getting any snot on it!”

There’s no hope for Bokuto’s date or Kuroo’s blanket, but at least Bokuto is laughing about it. That’s okay; Kuroo shifts into a comfortable position where he can rub Bokuto’s back and watch TV at the same time. He says little affirmations while the commercials play, reminding Bokuto of every reason he -- and Akaashi -- love him. He’ll stay like that the whole day, if that’s what it takes for Bokuto to believe it.

-

It’s a good thing Kuroo set aside the entire day, because that’s how long it takes. Bokuto doesn’t move well into the late afternoon, and it’s not until the doorbell rings at a crisp five minutes until six that Bokuto so much as stiffens.

“I got it,” Kuroo says, patting the blanket lump. He gets up and pretends not to see Bokuto peeking out of the covers nervously.

When Kuroo answers the door, he’s greeted with a small smile that instantly drops. By the looks of it, Akaashi expected a fancy date, since his shoes are freshly shined, and he’s even wearing a tie. “Oh. Hello, Kuroo-san.”

“Hello to you too,” Kuroo says back flatly. He looks away, feeling his cheeks go pink, but he’s not arrogant enough to not give credit where it’s due. “Thanks for earlier.”

“What about earlier?” Akaashi asks, tone innocent but eyes narrowed.

Kuroo grits his teeth to stop himself from snapping something he’d come to regret. Instead he, ever so calmly, says what he should have admitted earlier. “Everything. You were right. About Kenma, about Bokuto.”

Akaashi nods, apparently satisfied. Kuroo’s glad Akaashi isn’t one to flaunt that he was right, unlike certain other noisy cats Kuroo knows. Akaashi’s humbleness is both a pain and a blessing. “I’m glad you see it that way.”

Kuroo could let his fur be ruffled, or he can just accept things and move on. He chooses to step aside and opens the door invitingly. “Just going to warn you now: he’s not exactly in a condition to go out.”

Akaashi doesn’t shrug or sigh or anything. He toes off his shoes at the front and hangs his coat like he lives there before approaching the lump on the couch. Bokuto’s already gone and retreated into his nest, the blanket fully covering him. Akaashi is completely patient though, resting a hand on what appears to be Bokuto’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Bokuto-san, please come out. We can’t have a date if you’re bundled up like that.”

The blanket lump shakes from side-to-side. “But I’m late to our date!”

“Hm. According to this, there’s still three minutes until our date,” Akaashi says, pulling out his phone and holding it against the blanket so it shows through the fabric.

It must be enough to appease Bokuto, since the blankets part and pool at his waist, revealing the form Bokuto had hidden all afternoon. “You’re not mad at me?”

“I’ll be mad at you if you stand me up.” The blood drains from Bokuto’s face, and Akaashi pats him reassuringly again. “You still have three minutes-- ah, no, only two minutes now-- before that happens, though.”

The color returns to Bokuto’s face in full force, filling his face until he’s blushing thickly. He picks at a loose thread on the cuff of his sweatshirt, mumbling like a scolded child. “I don’t think I can be ready…”

Akaashi takes a moment to consider, his eyes flicking up and down Bokuto. He’s hair is a mess and his sweatshirt is stained with tears and snot. Even if Bokuto were adequately dressed, his cheeks are blotchy from where he’d been crying, and there’s a pillow indent on the corner of his forehead from where he’d been planted all afternoon. Akaashi merely blinks. “What are you talking about? You’re perfectly ready.”

“But the restaurant we have reservations to is fancy! You said they have a dress code!” Even Kuroo has to admit, Bokuto’s right about not being ready to go out, fancy restaurant or not.

“Then we don’t go to the restaurant for our date,” Akaashi says simply. He places his hand over Bokuto’s and gives it a squeeze. “We’ll stay in tonight. All we need to have a successful date is you and me, after all.”

“Akaashi…” Bokuto sniffles exactly once before his face breaks out into a wide smile. His eyes glimmer, this time with admiration instead of tears. “You’re the man! You’re so cool!”

“Thank you,” Akaashi admits bashfully as Bokuto tackles him into a hug. Bokuto stamps a chain of kisses from Akaashi’s chin up to his jaw in a mantra of small, “I love you!”s and “you’re the best!”s, to which Akaashi gently reminds, “I love you, too.”

Kuroo awkwardly shuffles in the entrance as the scene unfolds, looking away. Eventually Bokuto announces that he’s going to clean himself up for their _awesome_ date and runs to the bathroom.

It’s in that silence that Kuroo tries to make a break for the bedroom. If they’re as sappy as they were just now, this is something he doesn’t want to be around to witness. Akaashi’s voice catches him before he can make a quick escape, though. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

Kuroo shrugs, turning to face Akaashi properly. He shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. “Hey, I might not show it with kisses, but love the meathead too.”

“I’m glad.” It’s probably the first time Akaashi’s smiled at him, and Kuroo can’t blame Bokuto for being weak for that smile anymore.

-

Bokuto barges into the bedroom for his best clothes, deciding to dress up even though his and Akaashi’s dinner plans have been abandoned, but the rest of the night is relatively silent. Kuroo holes himself in his bunk, equal parts curious of what they’re doing on their date and staunchly stopping himself from eavesdropping. Sure, there’s Bokuto’s privacy, but when has that ever been a thing between them? In truth, Kuroo doesn’t want to hear them being smoochy when he was so close to being just as smoochy with Kenma.

He reaches for his phone on instinct but stops himself midtext. It’s too soon, he decides. Kuroo groans, rolling into his pillow and yelling into it. He can block out the sounds outside, but he can’t block out the fantasy of what it would be like to have Kenma curled beside him now.

-

Kuroo hears it about thirty minutes into Bokuto and Akaashi’s date. It’s a small rumble and a little meow, a personal text tone Kuroo’s set up for one person and one person only. Bokuto’s just told a joke and Akaashi actually laughed. Kuroo didn’t even know Akaashi was capable of laughter, though Akaashi had proven he was capable of a lot of things in the past twenty-four hours. But that’s the last thing on Kuroo’s mind as he stares at his phone, holding his breath.

He nearly thinks he’s imagined it all when the phone buzzes and lights up again, meowing cutely. Kuroo snatches it immediately.

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 8:49 PM  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Kuro  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Hey  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** hey  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Whats up?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** are we talking again?  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** For now  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** do your parents hate me?  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Yes  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** are we alright?  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Youre not off the hook  >:|  
  


An emoji isn’t quite the relationship goals Kuroo was aiming for, but he smiles at the phone, a warmth blooming in his chest. The date outside his bedroom door melts away with each meow his phone beeps at him.

-

“You sure you don’t want to come out and watch a movie with us?” Bokuto had offered.

“No, I think my hangover is coming back,” Kuroo had said.

“You _sure?_ We have wine now,” Bokuto had offered.

Kuroo wishes he had said yes, but he shook his head and said, “it’s your date. Go enjoy it.”

If only he hadn’t. If he hadn’t, he might have seen the signs, every last one of them: Bokuto’s slurring words, Akaashi’s red-stained lips, the way they giggled at each other. Kuroo would have spied every single fingertip slipping up a thigh and stopped it in its tracks. He would have upheld his end of the bargain as a third wheel.

But he’d claimed to go to bed early and spent the whole evening alternating between texting Kenma and imagining saying the same things to Kenma, just with Kenma beside him and not through SMS. That had been his downfall, just like earlier.

In fact the sweet smell of wine lingering on their lips hadn’t even occurred to Kuroo since he had been texting Kenma at the very moment they stumbled in, laughing and leaning against each other. They peeled off their fancy clothes and slipped into Bokuto’s clean sweats, and then they crawled into Bokuto’s bunk. Nothing out of the ordinary. Kuroo continued to smile at his screen, even as they shuffled and sighed. He continued to laugh at something Kenma said, even as they began to murmur and kiss. He continued to shoot off text after text, even as one of Bokuto’s shirts fell to the ground and his boxers followed right after.

Kuroo stops midtext only when the mattress jolts so suddenly that it moves one of the baseboards. He would have called out Bokuto’s name, but both his body and mouth were glued in place by the sounds he was now _acutely_ aware of. He wishes that he hadn’t turned his phone on silent out of politeness, because even the beep of one of the meows might have been enough to prevent those ungodly sounds Kuroo wishes he could erase from his memory.

It started with a sharp moan, a sound Kuroo could have gone all his life without hearing, not from Akaashi, but _Bokuto_. That alone was enough to horrify. Little did he know that wasn’t even the worst to come.

“Shh,” Akaashi huskily whispered, in a slow, lovely way. The mattress continued to dip, slowly moving the baseboards from side-to-side where they imperfectly fit.

“I wanna… I wanna…”

_“Yes.”_

By then, Kuroo’s mouth was hanging open, ready complain or scream or cry. But nothing came out. No, he was frozen in place, unable to move or squeak or breathe, at the subsequent sounds he knew well from many a lonely night and a steamy dream involving Kenma.

A little louder, as if forgetting himself, Bokuto said out loud: “More. I want-- Yeah! That!”

“Okay. But you have to be quiet,” Akaashi reminded, but his voice was louder too, and it had a lull that rocked back and forth like silk.

What was also louder was the gentle slap of skin-on-skin, and Kuroo didn’t have to be glued in place in the bottom bunk, which was now gently shaking back and forth, to know exactly what they were getting up to.

Except it was more than just what Kuroo knew so well because Bokuto was beginning to say, “I don’t have-- we need,” and Akaashi was saying back, “don’t worry, I have you, I have you,” and then Bokuto was moaning all over again, and this time with sounds that were undeniably flesh-on-flesh but different from the soft claps Kuroo memorized from his right hand. Kuroo might not have known it from firsthand experience, but thanks to that unfortunate image Bokuto texted him a few days ago, he knew _exactly_ what they were doing.

“There, there, there,” Bokuto kept repeating, his words crashing and slurring into each other. The mattress snapped against the baseboards again, and this time Akaashi was the one to let out a sigh.

Kuroo was screaming silently. He couldn’t get a single sound out, but he was still screaming. There were just some things bros weren’t supposed to know: what your bro sounds like while coming, what your bro’s boyfriend sounds like when coming, what your bro and his boyfriend sound like while coming at the same time. Those were just the first ones that came to Kuroo’s mind in that moment, but already he had a list long enough to fill a book.

When the shaking settled and the blankets rustled, Kuroo thought, wrongly, that he’d weathered the worst. He closed his eyes, feeling more haggard than he had reason to, and breathed into the silence.

And yet.

It.

Didn’t.

End.

There.

What came next was slurping sounds, and in that moment, clutching his phone to his chest, Kuroo knew exactly what had to be done.

Kitty Kat   
  
**Today** 11:15 PM  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** Kenma.  
  


There was no way Kuroo was suffering through this alone. If he was going to be scarred for life forever, he was taking Kenma down with him. He sent Kenma a voice memo of Bokuto’s, “That’s good, that’s-- _Ohh!”_ and he sent Kenma a video of the dark blurs of the baseboards shaking in place. Kenma wouldn’t have a clue what was happening, not yet, but soon he’d know the horror of every clip, every blur.

Kitty Kat   
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** save me,  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** What happened?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** bokuto and his boyfriend are fucking  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** Whats so bad about that?  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** they’re doing it in bed  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** ????  
  
**[To: Kitty Kat]** i’m also in bed  
  
**[From: Kitty Kat]** o  
  


The rest, simply, was too dreadful. Though he tried his best to repress the memories, Kuroo knew that Bokuto’s high-pitched whining and Akaashi’s soft grunts would be seared into his memory for all of eternity. He would forever remember that night as one of the darkest, most godless moments in his entire life. Never was there such a fright more nightmarish than any nightmare he’d had, and on that moan-filled night, in that room filled with humid breaths, carnal sounds, and the undeniable sound of a condom opening, he vowed to kill Bokuto with his bare hands if it ever happened again. But as they say, the night was young, and there was still a long journey ahead for Kuroo on what he’d come to call the Sleepless Night of A Thousand Quakes.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to hmu on [tumblr](https://90stimkon.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/cloneboys), or [consider commissioning me](https://90stimkon.tumblr.com/post/162750545663/commission-me)!


End file.
